


With Cleansing Breath

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dark, Drama, First War with Voldemort OR Second War with Voldemort, Order of the Phoenix - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-16
Updated: 2007-02-06
Packaged: 2018-10-26 15:59:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10789887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: Remus remembers the good times he had with Sirius, the days and nights they spent together in their house.  But he must not forget to live in the present and will struggle to find out who he really is – this time alone without his mate.  When he finally gets his life on track, the first love of his life makes another appearance and throws everything off balance.





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes: Fits into my "The Sharing of Breath" series.   


* * *

****With Cleansing Breath** **

 

XXXXXXX

 

****PART I** **

 

XXXXXXX

 

It was the first day of March and he was twenty-three. He hadn’t been back to the house since November and everything was covered in thick white dust. The chair in the kitchen was still overturned from where he’d fallen, stains on the floor from where he’d spat out blood from his broken lip. There was a stench of vomit because he’d also thrown-up, but whether it was a phantom smell or real, he couldn’t tell. The __Daily Prophet__ was there, its pages scattered, the headline still reading about the betrayal of Sirius Black.

 

He went to their bedroom with a box in his hand and began to gather up the things he wanted to keep. Originally, the idea had been to get his extra clothes and books, perhaps the old pair of trainers he’d left. But now he couldn’t bear to part with any of it. In the wardrobe he found the old bomber jacket Sirius had bought from a second-hand shop. It smelled like leather and oil and of Lorelei, the motorbike. He slipped the jacket on; it was too big. 

 

The books went in next and his hands shook when he picked up the book they’d first read together, aloud. It felt warm against his palms and it was the first book Sirius defaced. He’d read it a second time and written in the margins. Things like “ _ _can you believe she said this?_ _ ” and “ _ _mmm – when he kisses her it makes me think of . . ._ _ ” Then he’d given it back. It went on like that. Books filled with Sirius’ inane (and often pervy) comments that always made him smile.

 

He threw the book in his box. More books went in until he found his old copy of Shakespeare’s tragedies. He remembered that one well – having to explain __King Lear__ to Sirius and phrases like “beast with two backs.” There were scribbles in this one, too, and he opened it up to __Romeo and Juliet__. He knew what was there as though it was written in his own brain, but he needed to see the words on the page.

 

__By a rose of any other name? What rot. I’d change my name to Sirius Lupin if it meant I’d be yours and no one else’s_._

 

It was a silly thing, but meant so much. Something splashed against the page and he was surprised to find himself crying. It was the first time he’d done so. His parents let him move back in, but he hadn’t talked to them. Barely a word or whisper. He didn’t talk to himself and he refused to return any of Dumbledore’s owls. That was the only tear he’d let himself cry.

 

Kicking off his shoes, he lay down in their old bed, the one they’d shared for over a year and a half. He pulled Sirius’ pillow to him and buried his face in it, trying to see if it held any scent of his old mate. He couldn’t decide which was worse – that he had the best night’s sleep in his old bed since November, or that he fell asleep imagining himself curled up around Sirius, as though neither of them wanted to let go.

 

XXXXXXX

 

It was August 1980 and warm outside. Remus held a Muggle cigarette between his fingers and inhaled.

 

“They say this stuff will kill you,” he said to Sirius who was tinkering with Lorelei, his shirt discarded somewhere in the back garden. A thin sheet of sweat covered his back and glistened in the sunlight.

 

“Don’t care,” said Sirius. “There, I think I __finally__ fixed that fucking rattling noise she was making.”

 

“You treat her like she’s your child.”

 

“I’d treat Harry like my child if he’d stop sucking on Lily long enough for me to hold him.”

 

Remus smiled.

 

“Besides, it’s not like we’re ever gon’ have kids, y’know?” Remus watched Sirius swallow, his fingers still on the Muggle wrench.

 

“Does that bother you?”

 

“Mmm,” hummed Sirius. He stood and took the cigarette from Remus. “I wouldn’t want anyone to have to be a Black.”

 

“What about a Lupin?”

 

“I don’t want to talk about this.”

 

Remus tilted his head to the side to try and catch Sirius’ eye. “Hey – what’s going on? I never thought you’d . . .”

 

“Want kids? I don’t know, but Harry’s pretty cool for a blob, right? It didn’t bother me much until I started thinking about how I could never actually have them.”

 

“I don’t want to stop you from—”

 

Sirius shook his head. “No,” he interjected. “It’s not you. It’s me. I’m not – girls don’t – I’m sure their parts are lovely, but I don’t want them. I’m feeling sorry for myself is all. I should be glad I have you. I __am__ glad.”

 

“I suppose it’s rather grim, knowing when you die there’s no one there that you’ve passed anything down to. Your genes simply stop.”

 

Sirius laughed harshly. “Right. I can’t even pass my belongings down to you without a stupid will. Because we can’t get married.”

 

Remus blinked and stopped breathing. “. . . What?”

 

“It’s true, isn’t it?”

 

“Werewolf Legislation Act Number 1432,” mumbled Remus. “Werewolves can’t marry or have children.”

 

“I wasn’t thinking because you’re a werewolf,” said Sirius. “I don’t give a fuck what the Ministry says about that. They’ve no hold over the Muggle world. But being a man. God, never mind.”

 

“Don’t ‘never mind’ me.”

 

“The point was just that we’ve been together for three years and nothing to show for it. When I die my family will get everything ‘less I go write a will. If I could get married then everything would automatically go to my spouse. Right?”

 

“Well, yes, but I don’t think we’ve nothing to show for three years being together. More than three years, actually.”

 

“What, like this house? Like this motorbike that makes you worry like a woman every time I ride it?”

 

Remus didn’t answer.

 

“These things don’t __mean__ anything.”

 

“You don’t even like ceremonies or labels. You don’t even like calling me your boyfriend.”

 

“Because it’s a stupid-sounding word!” cried Sirius. “It doesn’t mean anything. James is a boy friend. Peter is a boy friend – well, friend might be pushing it, he’s an annoying little weasel sometimes, but the point is—”

 

“Good, there’s a point? Please get to it.”

 

Sirius didn’t respond. He dropped the nearly finished cigarette to the ground and went inside. The door slammed with a bang.

 

They didn’t talk for two days. Remus wasn’t sure exactly what had happened, but he knew that if he had to go to sleep without touching Sirius another night, he was going to go a bit mad. None of it made sense to him, but he had plenty of silence in which to analyze everything. On the third day, Remus came home from work late and pried a book out of Sirius’ hands. He sat down on the sofa next to him.

 

“I was reading that,” said Sirius.

 

“I’m sure you were. There’s something we need to talk about. I’m going to ask you something and I’m going to be very blunt. Ready?”

 

Sirius shrugged.

 

“Are you in one of your miserable moods because you want to get married, but you’re gay and I’m not a girl?”

 

“Piss off, Lupin.”

 

Remus reached out and grabbed hold of Sirius’ arm, keeping him from getting off the sofa. “No, I won’t piss off. I think that’s __exactly__ what’s going on with you. The Muggle Ministry doesn’t allow men to get married. The Ministry of Magic doesn’t allow werewolves to get married. Not that you asked, or not that I asked, but we can’t. And I think – I __think__ you want to.”

 

“I don’t want to.”

 

“Stop brooding. I can’t stand it when you’re in one of your miserable moods. It makes me miserable as well and next week is the full moon, which is already making me feel tired.”

 

Sirius snatched his arm out of Remus’ grasp and stood up. “It’s not fucking fair is all! I never wanted to get married, but knowing that I can’t! I __can’t__! Nothing keeps you here. Nothing binds us from going off with another bloke – or bird in your case, Mr. Bisexual.”

 

“I don’t really think that’s fair.”

 

“And so what if it’s been bothering me? So fucking what?”

 

“ _ _I__ keep me here!” snapped Remus, standing up. “If I wanted to cheat, I would, but I don’t.” He stood right in front of Sirius and placed his hands on his shoulders. “I promise never to do that. I’d never betray you.”

 

“Let go of me.”

 

Remus tightened his grip. “No. Do you promise never to do those things to me either?”

 

Sirius swallowed. “Yeah. I promise.”

 

“Good. Do you think my word means anything?”

 

“Yeah, I trust you.”

 

“Do you really?”

 

“Yeah – you want me to get a tattoo that says ‘I trust Remus’ or are you going to believe me?”

 

“I believe you,” answered Remus. He let go of Sirius’ shoulders and dug into his pockets. “I bought something on the way home for you.”

 

“Ah, I wondered why you were late. Not like you.”

 

Remus grasped Sirius’ present in his hand, but he wouldn’t let the other boy see. “If you think it’s hokey then just don’t wear it, but”—

 

XXXXXXX

 

He woke up with a start. Outside, a Muggle car backfired. Remus groaned and pushed away Sirius’ old pillow. He sat up and looked around their old bedroom. An owl flew in through the window which was cracked open. It landed on the bed in front of Remus. 

 

__

__R. J. Lupin_ _

 

__The Old Bedroom_ _

__24 Landon Place_ _,_ _London_ _

 

 

He opened the envelope and read the letter inside. It was from Dumbledore, but unlike his other owls, this one didn’t offer condolences or apologies. This one was different and Remus read it twice.

 

__

__Mr. Lupin –_ _

 

__It is important to remember the past, but don’t forget who you really are._ _

__Meet me at_ _Bath_ _College_ _near_ _Bath_ _. There’s a Floo connection in a pub called the Witch’s Brew._ _

__I will be there at_ _noon_ _a week from today._ _

 

 

It wasn’t signed, but Remus knew the handwriting belonged to Dumbledore. Whether he’d actually go and meet him, he didn’t know. He crumpled up the parchment and tossed it across the room. It landed near a small pile of clothes, Sirius’ clothes, that needed to be cleaned. Remus looked at them, threads from the jeans sticking out from where Sirius had kneeled down so often to work on his bike, oil stains on white t-shirts, dried white marks on pants – evidence of their lovemaking.

 

Remus looked away and lay back down on the bed. He looked at the ceiling. When he took a breath, it felt as though he was breathing fire. Nothing had ever hurt this much. His mouth was dry as cotton and he swallowed as bile rose in the back of his throat. He had loved Sirius. They had promised never to betray one another, but that promise lay broken in the bodies of James, Lily, and Peter. 

 

On his finger was a thick ring, silver in color, but not in quality. It had uneven designs and had a mate, another ring that was a perfect match, the uneven designs fitting together like puzzle pieces. Remus had one. Sirius had the other. It had been an impulse buy that day when Remus was late for work, walking down the streets of London, desperately trying to figure out a way to snap Sirius out of his miserable mood. It was supposed to be a gesture, but Sirius had taken it more seriously than he’d imagined. Though, that was brilliant because Remus always did have the fear that Sirius would find someone better-looking or more fit one day. Someone who didn’t become a Dark creature once a month, someone who only liked men, who could get a real job, who didn’t nag about the flying motorbike. 

 

The rings were nothing more than rings. They didn’t come with binding spells and they weren’t enchanted. They were made from metal Muggles had dug up, but they meant something to them. It had given Remus the confidence to finally and fully relax and stop thinking of the house not as Sirius’, but as __theirs__.

 

Now, Remus pulled the ring off his finger and looked at it. It was nothing more than a sodding piece of metal. It was supposed to hold promises, a circle of them so they could never escape, never be broken. But they had and the ring meant nothing.

 

He left the ring on the bedside table and got up from the bed. With his wand, he cast a weightless charm on the box and picked it up. He Disapparated to his parents’ house with a loud __crack__ and stumbled into the back garden.

 

As usual, he ignored them as he went inside, but his father followed him into his childhood bedroom, lecturing about getting his life together and making the right choices from now on. Choices about girls and marriage and things that Remus didn’t want to hear about. He mumbled the usual, “Okay, Dad,” several times before shoving the box under his bed and flopping down on top of his blankets.

 

“Now you can see what kind of person that Sirius fellow really was.”

 

“You don’t understand,” said Remus. “No matter what he did to James or Peter, he loved __me__.”

 

“You think that’s true? Even though he was the one who gave up your friends? They’re dead because of him.”

 

“I know, but that doesn’t mean he ever stopped loving me. I’m sure in his twisted mind he still does,” Remus mumbled into his pillow. “You don’t have to understand.”

 

“Get out of the house and find a nice girl.”

 

“I don’t want a nice girl. I don’t want anyone. Please, just leave me be. We were together for four years. We lived together. We were going to be together forever and now he’s gone. You act like our relationship didn’t mean anything. If Mum suddenly was ripped from your life, I don’t think you’d go out for a nice frolic in the meadows. So leave me alone.”

 

“Your mother and I are married; it’s completely different.”

 

“It is not. Sirius would’ve married me had we been allowed.”

 

“Don’t talk like that. You couldn’t have done.”

 

“Of course not! Because we were the wrong genders to get married, but it’s completely besides the point. He wanted to. He might’ve worn this old leather bomber jacket sometimes and ridden on a motorbike, but he had depth. You never wanted to see that depth, but I drowned in it and I’m still trying to come up for air and I need more time for that. Just leave me alone and give me time.”

 

Remus’ dad left the room and died the next day. The Muggle doctor said it was a heart attack, probably from so much smoking. Remus looked at the half-smoked pack of cigarettes on his desk and put them into the box of things he’d taken from his old house. He vowed to forget them.

 

XXXXXXX

 

“I took the liberty of ordering you a brandy.”

 

“How did you know I would even show up?”

 

Dumbledore smiled, his eyes twinkling. Remus took the brandy in his hands and looked down into the glass. Dumbledore knew everything; why should this be any different?

 

“I just got news of your father this morning.”

 

“It’s all right, please don’t apologize. I can’t take any more condolences or sympathy.” He put the brandy to his lips and drank.

 

“I feel responsible,” said Dumbledore and Remus knew he was talking about his friends and him. “I never wanted to allow someone so young into the Order. They weren’t experienced enough, but they were very lucky to escape Voldemort’s clutches three times. If I hadn’t given them those final orders they never would have had to go into hiding.”

 

“It wasn’t your fault. Lily made us all these bracelets with charmed stones, but that night I’d taken it off when I took a shower and forgot to put it back on. Maybe if I’d felt the stone heat up I could have gotten to Godric’s Hollow before Sirius got to Peter.”

 

“Hmmm,” said Dumbledore, “it was all a very strange turn of events. Not even I suspected Sirius, but you mustn’t blame yourself, Remus. Sometimes Fate does funny things to us. Would you like to know why I asked you to meet me here?”

 

Remus nodded and finished his brandy.

 

“I’ve had a meeting at the university college. With rather a lot of devious means, I’ve managed to get you accepted.”

 

“What?”

 

“It’s a teaching school. I’ve an assignment for you.”

 

“But You Know Who is dead.”

 

Dumbledore nodded. “Yes, but this is a very different matter. In a couple of years time, a young boy will enter a Muggle school. His mother is a Muggle, his father a wizard. His father has taught him Dark magic and I’m afraid he’s been using it on other children in the neighborhood. I need someone to gain the boy’s trust and try to sway him away from that kind of magic.”

 

“If the boy’s doing Dark magic, why is he in a Muggle school?”

 

“Even the Darkest wizards have a vice and I’m afraid this one’s weakness is his love for the Muggle woman. You know about that kind of love, don’t you, Remus? I would like for you to take the time to learn proper Muggle teaching methods. This will give you very good excuses for not taking your nose out of books, I assure you.”

 

“What’s special about this boy?”

 

Dumbledore raised his glass to his lips and drank. “Nothing terribly special, but I think you need some direction, Remus. A purpose, if you will. Serving cold sandwiches every day will not do.”

 

“All right. I’ll do it. But it’s the middle of the term, surely—”

 

“I’m sure that you will find it easy to slide into classes that have been in session for a month. I have faith that you’ve probably already read all the books in some of the literature classes they offer. Shall we take off and admire the campus?” 

 

Remus nodded and stood. He offered to pay for the drinks, but Dumbledore shook his head and left some gold coins on the table. Remus wasn’t sure exactly how going to a Muggle college would do, but somehow he knew it was going to help him get his life in order and take his mind off Sirius – something that he desperately needed if he wanted to keep from going mad. His sanity was hanging on by the thinnest, barest wire, ready to break. 

 

Sirius had taken away the lives of Peter, James, and Lily, but Remus refused to let him take away his life as well. He was going to pull through and be strong and stop loving him. He just needed the strength and he hoped Dumbledore’s plan for him worked. Only time would tell.

 

XXXXXXX

 

**To Be Continued . . .**

 

XXXXXXX


	2. Part II

XXXXXXX

 

****PART II** **

 

XXXXXXX

 

When Remus began his classes the next week, he slid into them without anyone noticing. He figured it must have been Dumbledore’s doing. The term went well and Remus got high marks in his literature and history classes. He didn’t have much basis for maths or sciences so he made sure to stay clear of those. He continued to live at home and sleep above the box of things from his and Sirius’ house. He hadn’t looked in it since he’d thrown the pack of cigarettes in it and shoved it under his bed.

 

The summer term began and Remus signed up for more classes than should have been allowed. He needed the distraction. The sooner he finished up with his schooling the sooner he could get the job Dumbledore wanted him to get. And a job meant money, something that was quickly being used up between he and his mother.

 

The house was quiet, so quiet in fact that his mother had become convinced the walls were talking to her. Several trips to St. Mungo’s (and several large bills later) gave them an array of potions sitting on the windowsill behind the kitchen sink. Every morning Remus measured out the exact amount and made sure his mother took them. The potions gave her a blank look on her face and sometimes she looked at Remus as though she had never seen him before. He wasn’t sure which was worse – the absent mind or the yelling and crying at the walls. Either way, he welcomed homework and classes and the use of his brain for something other than worrying.

 

Remus had always thought he was in love with Sirius, but when his father died his mother began to slip away. Was she so in love with her husband that she couldn’t handle a reality away from him? Remus almost wished his own sanity would go sometimes so that when he laid his head on his pillow he would only remember the good times and stop thinking about Sirius cowering in a prison cell all alone.

 

On Fridays was one of Remus’ literature lessons, 19th Century British Authors. He entered the small, intimate classroom and sat down at the large table. Other students came in, but he tried to ignore them.

 

“Sit down, shut up,” said an older gentleman with blonde hair. He carried a briefcase and though his choice phrases seemed harsh, his tone was not. “I’m Rhys Ackers. That’s Professor Ackers and this is 19th Century Authors, so if you’re not signed up for this class, then I suggest you leave.” He sat his briefcase down at the head of the table and looked around at everyone. His skin was marked as though he’d suffered from bad acne as a child, but he was otherwise handsome. He used his hands when he talked, making large gestures in the air. He spoke of the class and the things he expected from his students. Remus took all this in quietly, studying the expanse of table in front of him. Then, he looked up.

 

He almost forgot to breathe. The girl across from him smiled and blinked slowly, mouthing “hi.” Her hair was long and black, her neck thin, her bottom lip full. She had on a white cardigan with the top buttons undone, showing off freckled skin and the shadows of cleavage. Remus immediately recognized her as Dahlia, the girl who used to come into the café where he worked to talk about the books she was reading in secondary school. He tried to do the math in his head, but he couldn’t figure out if she was eighteen or nineteen by now. He supposed it didn’t really matter.

 

Looking at her dark eyes was a reminder to his past life. Here at this new Muggle school, Remus could pretend he was someone else. He could pretend he was Muggle, that his parents were rich, that he was a playboy, that he was the son of someone famous. Dahlia knew truths about him that he didn’t want to ever have to think of again.

 

Rhys Ackers slapped a thin book in front of him. __Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland__ and __Through the Looking Glass and What Alice Found There__. Remus’ body stiffened. This had been the last book he and Sirius shared. He had their copy in the box, scribbles in the margins. Sirius had written in red while Remus used blue ink instead. They’d made fun of the books, noting that they needed to find the potions Alice drank because it sounded like a good high. It made Sirius want to buy a hookah and charm it so that whenever they used it the smoke would turn blue and green and come out in the shapes of stars and moons.

 

“The book may not seem to have a lot of depth at first,” said Professor Ackers and it made Remus almost laugh. “But I want us to look at something first before I assign you to read it. Flip to the middle of your book and find the poem __Jabberwocky__.”

 

Remus felt sick. Somehow it had become Sirius’ life mission to understand the complete and utter __nonsense__ of the poem. 

 

“‘All mimsy were the borogoves,’” Sirius had quoted while in the shower one morning. “My god, what does it __mean__? Borogove isn’t a word! Is it? Brillig! Slithy! Gyre! Bandersnatch!” Then, reaching for Remus, whose head was covered in shampoo, he said huskily, “You can snatch my banders any day.”

 

“You.”

 

Remus looked up. “Pardon?”

 

Professor Ackers looked slightly exasperated. “I asked if you would read the poem.”

 

“Oh, sure.” Remus was used to reading aloud, but normally Sirius was his only audience. He always thought his voice to be extremely hoarse and harsh, but Sirius had never seemed to mind. He __really__ needed to stop thinking in terms of Sirius and the past. Going to Bath College was his chance at the future. Remus cleared his throat and read:

 

__

__“’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves_ _

 

__Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:_ _

__All mimsy were the borogoves,_ _

__And the mome raths outgrabe._ _

__

__Beware the Jabberwock, my son!_ _

__The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!_ _

__Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun_ _

__The frumious Bandersnatch!_ _

__

__He took his vorpal sword in hand:_ _

__Long time the manxome foe he sought –_ _

__So rested he by the Tumtum tree,_ _

__And stood awhile in thought._ _

__

__And, as in uffish thought he stood,_ _

__The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,_ _

__Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,_ _

__And burbled as it came!_ _

__

__One, two! One, two! And through and through_ _

__The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!_ _

__He left it dead, and with its head_ _

__He went galumphing back._ _

__

__And, has thou slain the Jabberwock?_ _

__Come to my arms, my beamish boy!_ _

__O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!_ _

__He chortled in his joy._ _

__

__Twas brillig, and the slithy toves_ _

__Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:_ _

__All mimsy were the borogoves,_ _

__And the mome raths outgrabe.”_ _

 

 

Remus finished and looked at the black print on the off-white pages. He could still hear Sirius yelling __Brillig! Slithy! Gyre! Bandersnatch!_ _ even though he tried to push those memories out of his head. Quietly, he closed the book and tried to listen to Professor Ackers talk.

 

When class was over, Remus bolted. He avoided Dahlia and went quickly to the Witch’s Brew to Floo home to his mother, who had the kitchen faucet spurting steaming water while having conversation with a box of tissue.

 

XXXXXXX

 

September of 1980 had brought Remus a new job from Dumbledore. Dealing with werewolves. It was a disgusting job, but he knew he had to do it. many of the werewolves wanted to side with the Death Eaters and Voldemort because they didn’t feel they could lead normal lives in the magical world. Remus tried to understand this, but he didn’t believe it. He kept it a secret, even from Sirius, embarrassed at how other werewolves behaved. He wasn’t like them, was he?

 

September also brought the first chance at babysitting. Lily said she was beginning to go mad being around the house all the time so she wanted a few hours out. She brought Harry over and handed him to Sirius. She kissed both his cheeks, then Sirius’, then Remus’, and left with James.

 

Harry spit up.

 

“Urrrrgggh,” grumbled Sirius.

 

“Yeah, and you want one of those things.”

 

“Maybe I spoke too soon about all that. Think I can teach him to spit up on demand whenever someone says __Snivellus__?”

 

“I think you’re overestimating how clever a two-month-old is.”

 

“But he’s __my__ godson! Of course he’s clever!”

 

“You do realize that being your godson means he doesn’t actually have any of your—”

 

“Merlin, look, his hair won’t stay down!”

 

Remus watched as Sirius sat on the floor, his back against the sofa. He bent his knees and rested Harry against them. He made faces at the baby and tickled his sides, trying to get him to laugh. It was a beautiful sight. Sirius would’ve made a great father – albeit a slightly immature one. He wasn’t much for discipline and any child of his would run amok. Still, Remus hoped that James and Lily realized just how devoted Sirius would be to Harry; he hoped they’d let him watch him more often now that he was getting older and less blob-ish.

 

The night went smoothly except for once when Harry cried for ten minutes later in the evening, but Sirius walked with him until he fell asleep. Then he placed him on their bed, barricaded by magical, invisible walls that would allow either of them to pick the baby up, but Harry wouldn’t be able to fall off.

 

When James and Lily came back, James was the one who looked surprised that Sirius hadn’t had a nervous breakdown. Lily just smiled and winked at Remus, as though she knew all along that they would be fine babysitting.

 

Remus offered to make tea while Lily went to check on her son. Sirius needed a cigarette and James joined him outside. While Remus set the kettle on the stove to boil, he could hear James and Sirius talk behind the closed kitchen door.

 

“This is the first time I’ve got you alone in months,” said James.

 

“Oh? Want your wicked way with me?”

 

“Don’t be an arsehat. No, I wanted to ask you about the . . . you know.”

 

“No, I don’t know.”

 

“The rings.”

 

“Ah.”

 

Remus felt his neck grow hot.

 

“They’re just . . .” Sirius stumbled for his words. “They’re just rings, mate. You know, melted metal and all that.”

 

“Right, but they’re identical.”

 

“Good eyes.”

 

“Sirius.”

 

“What d’you want me to say? The truth?”

 

“Please.”

 

Sirius let out a giant sigh. “Fine – when you and Lils had Harry I got really jealous. Not because you spent even less time with me, I’m not that immature, but, you know . . . you have a __baby__. Like, the perfect family. I never wanted to wipe a bunch of snotty noses, but it sort of hit-me, like. That I can’t. Can’t have kids, I mean. Can’t get married, can’t have a family, any of it. When I die, everything just stops.”

 

“I see. . . . No, actually I don’t.”

 

Sirius sighed again. “I never really knew I wanted something until I couldn’t have it. So Remus went out and bought these to sort of, like, reassure ourselves that we’re not just fucking around. Because sometimes we’ve got to grow up and have these things mean something.”

 

“So you’re . . . what? Married? You two are so weird.”

 

“Sod off, it isn’t like that. You wouldn’t understand. Just think of what you’d try to do if everyone told you marrying Lily was against the law. You’d find another way to work around it, yeah? That’s all we did. Get that look off your face.”

 

“We’d thought you’d be a confirmed bachelor forever.”

 

“Obviously not.”

 

“Obviously.”

 

From behind Remus in the house, a soft voice said in his ear, “It’s not nice to eavesdrop.”

 

“Ahh!” cried Remus, startled. “Jeez, Lily,” he said, turning around, “you almost gave me a heart attack.”

 

“You’re really good for Sirius, you know?”

 

“Why?”

 

“He’s really beginning to mature. If only we could do something about that flying motorbike.”

 

Remus offered Lily a small smile. “No, he’ll never give her up, but I don’t think it’s really me. I think Sirius is maturing on his own.”

 

“I’m very happy for the both of you. There’s an ease between you, like you can speak without speaking, you know?”

 

Remus shrugged.

 

“I trust both of you implicitly. Well, of course, since I left my only child in your care for a few hours. Don’t tell James, but he was far more worried than I was.”

 

“Sirius is brilliant with Harry.”

 

“I know. If anything ever happened to James or me, I know he’d be amazing with him. It makes me worry a little less with all this mess happening with You Know Who. We have to be really careful. We’ve even talked about moving a time or two, away from London, but we’re still holding on to hope that this’ll be over soon.”

 

“I know what you mean,” Remus said quietly.

 

“That’s what’s keeping me holding on,” said Lily. “The hope, because without it we’re just us and I’m not sure that’s enough to keep us all together.”

 

It was a dismal thought, but Remus wasn’t sure she was completely wrong. 

 

XXXXXXX

 

There was a mid-term exam in the middle of summer for the 19th Century Authors class. It was all essay and while Remus still had trouble writing with Muggle pens, he thought he did fairly well. Dahlia finished the examination before he did and left the classroom. He was glad not to have her around; she was a distraction. 

 

When he went into the corridor, she was there, waiting for him. She tossed her black hair over her shoulder and raised her eyebrows.

 

“I don’t have any diseases,” she said.

 

“Cheers to your good health,” said Remus dryly.

 

“You haven’t said hello once to me all term, you know.”

 

“I know, I’m a terrible person.” It wasn’t sarcasm.

 

“Can I walk with you?”

 

Remus nodded and started off down the hallway. “So,” he said. “How are you?”

 

“Brilliant. All that help you gave me in secondary school got me loads of high marks and that’s why I’m here, studying literature and all that. What ever happened to your job at the café?”

 

“Oh, I quit a while back. I got a new job.” __A new job running around with werewolves__ , Remus added silently. 

 

“You’re so different now,” observed Dahlia. 

 

“Am I?”

 

“You used to look happy, but now . . . are you still with that Sirius bloke?”

 

Remus stopped walking, his hand on the door to the stairwell. “No, we broke up.”

 

“Oh, I’m sorry. Is that why you’ve been avoiding me? Because I’d prob’ly say something? I knew I shouldn’t have asked about him! I’m always putting my foot in it, you know.”

 

“It’s all right. I don’t really want to talk about him. It’s been a really dismal year so far.”

 

“Whereabouts are you living?”

 

“With my mum.”

 

“Not your dad? I thought your parents were married.”

 

“My dad died in March.”

 

Dahlia looked as though she might faint. “I’m the worst person ever.”

 

Remus felt rather sorry for her, so he tried to offer her a smile. “No, that’s all right, you didn’t know. How do you think you did on the exam?”

 

“Brilliantly, I hope. There were loads of questions about Lewis Carroll. I think Professor Ackers dreams about having torrid love affairs with the man, you know. The way he goes on about the stupid poem. It doesn’t even make sense.”

 

“No, it doesn’t. How old are you now?”

 

“Nineteen. You?”

 

“Twenty-three.”

 

“Brilliant, the age gap seems less now, doesn’t it? Ah, but you’re still gay.”

 

Remus opened his mouth to respond, but didn’t have the energy to explain his sexual preferences to her.

 

“My mum’s not feeling well, so I better get going,” said Remus. “I’m sorry I avoided you.”

 

“It’s all right. Before the next exam we should try to study together. I’ve a flat a kilometer or so away. My flatmate is really quiet, you know, so it’s easy to study there.”

 

“Sure. Just remind me before the next exam comes around.”

 

Dahlia nodded and kissed his cheek.

 

Remus went quickly to the Witch’s Brew to Floo home. His mother was on the sofa in the lounge, staring at the telly. It was turned on, but the show she was watching was in French. Remus sat down next to her and put his arm around her shoulder. She smiled and patted his thigh in a loving, motherly way.

 

That day’s edition of the __Daily Prophet__ lay open on the coffee table in front of them. The headline on page two caught Remus’ eye. It was about the attempted escape of Sirius Black from Azkaban. He was stopped and put under even tighter security while the Wizengamot met to discuss the possibility of a Dementor’s Kiss for Black.

 

Remus cursed him, cursed him for betraying them all, leaving him so alone. Sirius shouldn’t be in Azkaban – they should be together, rumpling up the bed linens and swallowing each other’s moans. Instead, Remus was at home with his mother. He tightened his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into a sideways hug while listening to the characters in the picture. As the smooth words of the actors filled the air – 

 

 

__. . . tu es la première femme le premier jour de la creation . . ._ _

 

_–_ he didn’t have the heart to tell her that she didn’t know French.

 

XXXXXXX

 

****To Be Continued . . .** **

 

XXXXXXX

 

Poem, __Jabberwocky__ by Lewis Carroll. Whether it is genius or insanity, I’ll let you judge, but it still baffles me.


	3. Part III

XXXXXXX

 

****PART III** **

 

XXXXXXX

 

The term ended well. Remus got high marks in all his classes, though he was still baffled by some of the Muggle history he had studied. He became friends with Dahlia. The friendship she offered was easy; she didn’t expect anything from him. They helped each other study for the literature exams and drank coffee at midnight like good college students do. 

 

His literature class ended up being much more interesting than he originally thought. Several times the discussions went past the class time and Remus accompanied Professor Ackers to his office to continue talking about the book they were reading. It was nice having someone to talk to again about books. Professor Ackers had read everything Remus had, but since he was in academia, he brought up points that Remus, at twenty-three, never would have thought of.

 

Once the summer session was over, Professor Ackers extended an open invitation to Remus to come to his office whenever he wanted to talk about what he was reading. Remus accepted and visited him once a week. Sometimes Dahlia tagged along, but she said that she always felt overwhelmed listening to them.

 

During the day it was easy to forget about Sirius. Remus’ hours were filled with books and learning, with discussions and friends. It was at night, when he had to cook dinner for his mother and make sure she took her potions that reality really crept up to him. She was getting worse and called Remus by his father’s name. He stopped correcting her, though sometimes he asked if she’d seen her son about. The look on her face was always confused, as if she had forgotten about Remus completely. He hoped that Sirius was as miserable as he was, and continually thinking about what he had lost. He’d never have Remus again. Once, Remus would have given Sirius everything – his body, his heart, his soul. Now, Remus took those things back and was going to hold on to them and never give them up again. They were __his__ and he had learned that he couldn’t trust love.

 

The days passed quickly and October came. It would mark a full year without Sirius. Remus had survived it. He was a different person and while he wasn’t happy, he was alive and living. He had friends, even if they weren’t the Marauders. Nothing would be the same again, but with each breath, Remus was healing; he was cleansing himself of Sirius. 

 

When Halloween came, Remus made sure his mother was tucked in bed and asleep. There was no way he was going to go to sleep, even though the full moon was the next night. He Floo’ed to the Witch’s Brew and walked through the night to Dahlia’s flat.

 

She answered the door with a quizzical look on her face and stepped aside for him to come in.

 

“No,” he said, “I need a drink. Or twelve.”

 

“Twelve?”

 

“I’ve a surprising high tolerance for alcohol. Unless you’ve a party or something to go to . . . ?”

 

“No, I don’t like costume parties. Sure, let me get my coat.”

 

They made their way down the street to a local bar. Remus knew many of the kids who attended Bath College stayed away from bars like this which was its allure. It tended to gather a more mature crowd, but was still cheap, something Remus liked. They sat down next to each other at the bar and ordered beers from the barman.

 

“What’s going on?” asked Dahlia.

 

“I never told you why Sirius and I broke up.”

 

Dahlia placed her hand on Remus’ forearm. “No, you didn’t, but you don’t have to, you know.”

 

“He’s in prison. A year ago today he fed information to a really bad wiz – man and because of that, our best friend and his wife were killed. Then he himself went and killed another friend of ours on a street corner with loads of bystanders about.”

 

“Oh my god,” whispered Dahlia. “Why?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“You had been together for a really long time, hadn’t you?”

 

“Four years.” Remus put the mug of beer to his lips and drank it down. He motioned to the barman for another. “I’ve spent all year being really upset by it, but I think now I’m ready to forget it and get on with life.”

 

“That’s really good!”

 

Remus thanked the barman for the beer and took a sip of it. “Yeah, I suppose.”

 

“Do you still love him?”

 

“I don’t know,” answered Remus honestly. “I still miss him. I thought we’d be together forever. Least, that’s what he said and I believed him. When I say ‘forever’ that’s exactly what I mean. It took us a while to finally get together, but it was amazing when we finally did.”

 

“He always seemed to love you,” said Dahlia. “The look on his face when you were around. I missed it at first, but when I knew to look for it, it was there.”

 

Remus sniggered. “Yeah, that’s what our friends said. We had this one friend who didn’t figure it out for __years__ , which actually surprised us all. We thought we were fairly obvious about it, short of snogging in front of other people.”

 

“I wish I knew what to say.”

 

“I miss him, but I’m tired of missing him. He betrayed me, all of us.”

 

“Did he betray you to that guy his brother was caught up with?”

 

Remus blinked several times before answering. “Oh, __him__. Yes, it was the same man.” He had forgotten that one day Sirius had come into the café where he worked and said that they needed to talk about Regulus and the men he was seen with. They’d told Dahlia Regulus was caught up in illegal activities, drugs and the like. It was a good story to tell a Muggle who could understand drugs, but not Dark wizards.

 

“I hope Sirius hasn’t ruined your chances to trust anyone. There’s still a lot of good people out there, you know.”

 

“Right,” agreed Remus and then he kissed her.

 

At first, she kissed him back, sweeping her tongue across his in his mouth, but then with a firm hand against his chest, she pushed him away.

 

“You’re gay,” she said.

 

Remus let out a short, almost hysterical, laugh. “Bi,” he corrected.

 

“But you told me—”

 

“I know what I told you, but Sirius wasn’t entirely comfortable that I still liked girls, so I told you I was gay so you wouldn’t keep up any false hopes that I’d suddenly start to fancy you. It was easier that way, less fights with Sirius and all that.”

 

“Right. But. I thought.” Dahlia looked thoroughly confused. She picked up her beer and took a long drink from it. “I thought Sirius was the first and only bloke.”

 

“He was, but, ah, this is going to sound like my life story.”

 

“That’s all right, I’ll listen.”

 

“Something started happening between Sirius and me when we were seventeen. It was our last year of school – we went to boarding school – and it was all very . . . confusing. It took us several months to finally get together. I’d kissed other girls, but hadn’t really fooled around with any, so I found a girl who I knew fancied me a bit and we went as far as I’d let us and I realized that I really _liked_ it. Thinking about her as a girl turned me on as much as thinking about Sirius and his boyness. I liked what she and I did together. I mean, I liked it physically and nothing about her turned me off, but Sirius was the person I thought about when I was alone. So I knew I liked both, but I liked Sirius best. I don’t think I ever told him that . . .”

 

“But he’s gay.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“And you’re both.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Why’d you kiss me?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“You don’t fancy me.”

 

“I . . .”

 

Dahlia smiled. “It’s all right, Remus, I don’t mind. I don’t fancy you anymore. Well, perhaps a little bit, you know? But I’m probably not the girl for you.”

 

“I don’t know anything about girls.”

 

“Ah, I’m not the girl to try it out on. I’m not that kind of girl.”

 

“I know you’re not. I never should have—”

 

Dahlia smiled and shook her head. “I don’t need to hear your apologies. You’re a good bloke, Remus, and I know you wouldn’t ever try anything with me if I said no. Maybe you can learn about girls with me some other time, but I’m actually dating that Marcus fellow from our literature class.”

 

“Marcus? Why didn’t you say?”

 

“I don’t know. It’s nothing serious yet, you know? So I wanted to keep quiet.”

 

“Let me know how it goes.”

 

“You really want to know?”

 

“You’ve heard all my past with Sirius. I’m here for you if you ever need to air anything out as well.”

 

Dahlia smiled. “Thank you, I appreciate that.”

 

In the end, Dahlia insisted on paying for the drinks. Remus hated feeling like charity, but he was also drunk. He was beyond drunk. The pull of the moon was especially strong as they left the bar and Remus almost didn’t make it back to Dahlia’s flat. She gave him a pillow and some blankets and pointed him to the sofa. He told her he wanted to go home, but she heard nothing of it and insisted he stay. Instantly, he fell asleep and dreamed about Sirius alone in a cell, calling out Remus’ name over and over again until black figures came to suck out his soul. As he fell over, dead, his lips were permanently curled back, as though the last sound he made was the _‘_ _ _s__ _’_ of “Remus.”

 

XXXXXXX

 

They felt too old to dress up that year – the last normal Halloween they shared together, for the next one was the fateful day in which James and Lily and Peter all died. They decided to make it a Marauder Halloween, which Lily was fine with since it gave her a chance to have some alone time once Harry went down for the night.

 

They met at Remus and Sirius’ house and laughed at the television shows on the old Muggle telly Sirius had bought a few days before. They drank butterbeers and relaxed. Peter sat in a second-hand armchair while James lounged himself on the floor. Remus and Sirius shared the sofa, but sat on cushions next to one another. Sirius’ arm was across the back of the couch and every so often his fingers would play with the hair at the nape of Remus’ neck.

 

“Toilet,” said Peter, standing up. He Vanished his butterbeer bottle and went to open one of the doors. 

 

“No,” said Sirius, “ _ _that’s__ the toilet door.” He pointed behind him. “Haven’t you ever used it here before? You’ve been here plenty of times.”

 

“You keep all the doors closed so I’ve never . . . what’s this room?”

 

“Just an extra room,” said Sirius, his eyes glued to the television.

 

“It’s just where I go to read when I want to. Or when I’m tired of Sirius I sit in there and ignore him until I’m not angry any longer.”

 

“Oh,” said Peter. He scratched at his round cheek. “I don’t understand. If there’s an extra room, why d’you stay in the same one?”

 

James sat up and looked at Sirius who had finally taken his eyes off the telly. Remus knew Sirius had a puzzled look on his face.

 

“Haven’t we ever told you?”

 

“You never said anything, Prongs?” asked Sirius.

 

James shook his head. 

 

“Oh, this is awkward.” Sirius cleared his throat. “The thing is, mate . . . Remus and I share a bed, too, not just a room.”

 

“Why? __Ohh__.” Peter blinked. “Since when? Wait! Remus has lived here since January. You’ve been __together__ since then?”

 

“Since the end of seventh year, actually,” said Remus. He shifted uncomfortably. They had never discussed whether to tell Peter about them. Actually, Remus was rather surprised he hadn’t figured it out or known. But they didn’t see Peter very often and one of the main reasons they saw James as much as they did was because Sirius took every chance he had to visit Harry.

 

Peter’s jaw clenched. “Since __seventh year__? That’s – what?” He counted on his fingers. “Over three years! I always knew you lot didn’t like me as much, but I thought we were friends.”

 

“We are!” said Remus. “We’re friends. We like you Peter.”

 

“You might, but Sirius doesn’t.”

 

“I never said—”

 

“I know you never __said__ ,” snapped Peter, interrupting Sirius, “but you don’t act like you like me. Which is fine, I don’t really care, ‘cause Remus was always, y’know, pretty decent and helped me with homework and the like, but I was still a Marauder, wasn’t I? I’m the one who came up with the charm that made the map spell out insults!”

 

“You did,” said Sirius, “and we’re very grateful for that—”

 

“Why didn’t you tell me? James, did you know?”

 

James nodded. “But not until around Christmas.”

 

Remus gave James an appreciative look, thankful that he didn’t say he had known since the beginning. The truth was, James had figured it out very early on, but Remus was nervous about letting anyone find out. Having a romantic relationship with another man wasn’t something that people readily accepted and Remus’ life was hard enough once a month without having to add in the stress of people labeling him as a dark creature of a different kind.

 

“Christmas was a long time ago.”

 

“It’s nothing something that comes up in fucking conversation,” said Sirius. “It’s not all, ‘pass the butter and by the way I had sex with a man this morning.’”

 

“You have sex?”

 

Sirius turned and looked at Remus. “Is he joking?”

 

“Does Lily know?” asked Peter quietly.

 

No one answered.

 

“Does Lily know?” he asked again.

 

Remus nodded. “Yes.”

 

“You don’t even __like__ Lily!” shouted Peter, looking at Sirius. “You might think that I’m just the dumb one, especially since I didn’t cotton on to this sooner, but I would’ve kept your secret. I never would’ve told anyone. I’m trustworthy.”

 

“We do trust you,” began Remus, standing up.

 

“No – no, you don’t. But that’s fine. Maybe I’ll just go and find a secret of my own to keep and not tell any of you lot. See how you like it.”

 

“Right, what secret could you possibly get that we’d care about?” said Sirius.

 

“SIRIUS!” shouted both Remus and James in unison.

 

“I didn’t mean it like – oh, shit. Look, Peter, you can’t keep your own secrets. Every time you get laid you come telling one of us. Or that time you got sacked from your job. You told us. You can’t keep big things to yourself. The little stuff we __wouldn’t__ care about.”

 

“Of course we would,” said Remus through gritted teeth. “No one else knows, Pete. Just us and Lily and my parents. That’s it.”

 

Peter shook his head. “This is shit. I’m outta here.” He went to the front door and with a __crack__ , he Disapparated.

 

“Shitfuck,” mumbled Sirius. He rubbed his eyes and then reached up to take Remus’ hand. He pulled him back down until he was seated on the sofa. Remus felt agitated, his muscles stiff, but he relaxed a bit under Sirius’ touch. “Hey,” said Sirius, his hand coming up to Remus’ cheek. He made Remus turn and look at him. “Pete’ll be all right.” He leaned forward and kissed Remus’ mouth. “It’s not his secret to know.”

 

“I feel bad. I really do like Peter.”

 

“I know.” Sirius kissed him again and Remus felt his tension lessen.

 

“James is watching,” he said, pulling away from Sirius.

 

Sirius turned and looked at James whose eyes were scanning over the room, everywhere but at his two best mates.

 

“Sorry,” said Remus. The back of his neck grew hot.

 

“It’s all right. I’m almost sorry I didn’t tell Peter,” said James, “so we could’ve avoided this mess. But you never would’ve done that in front of him.”

 

“Done what?”

 

“Y’know – kissed.”

 

“Of course not!” cried Sirius. “Peter isn’t okay with us. He wouldn’t be okay with us if we told him back at Hogwarts. He’s just – __not__. I’ve heard him use the word ‘faggot’ before. Just the other day when we were talking about that bloke – that foppish fellow who works at the – Merlin, what’s that bar’s name? – Threstral’s Good Luck Tavern.”

 

“Oh, yeah,” said James. “I remember that.”

 

“See?”

 

“I think it’s ignorance,” said Remus. “I don’t think it has anything to do with us being __us__.”

 

“I should just Obliviate him.”

 

“No! That wouldn’t solve anything! In a day or so, I’ll go talk to him. I’m probably the only one who likes him anyway.”

 

“Do you actually like him or d’you only like him because he likes you?”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

Sirius shook his head. “Nothing. Look, even if Peter isn’t okay with us, it doesn’t matter. We don’t need him.”

 

“Before you blokes get sentimental and soppy, I’m going to get home. See if perhaps my wife is still awake.”

 

Remus tried to offer James a smile. “See you, James.”

 

“Yeah, mate, I’ll send you an owl tomorrow sometime about the next meeting.”

 

“See you, mates.” James left the house to go to the back garden and Disapparate.

 

“Are you angry at me?”

 

Remus shook his head. “No. Disappointed in the whole mess, but not angry.”

 

“We don’t need him.”

 

“I know we don’t.”

 

“You should take off your trousers.”

 

“Why?”

 

Sirius grinned. “Do I need a reason?”

 

“One of your best mates is furious with you and you want me to take off my trousers?”

 

“What can I say? I’m in my sexual prime.” Sirius leaned in to kiss him again. “I’m just trying to distract you. Get your mind off Peter and all that.”

 

“When your hands are in my trousers I usually forget everything.”

 

With a smile on his face, Remus let Sirius distract him. It was nice; they set a languid pace and took their time undressing one another. Their clothes weren’t thrown across the room, but fell to the floor, completely forgotten. Remus faced Sirius and ran his hands along his spine as he was entered. With firm, but slow strokes, Remus came first – which was how Sirius liked it when he was on top – and Sirius followed not too far behind. They lay chest to chest, their lips an inch apart, breathing each other’s breath.

 

“I love you,” said Sirius quietly.

 

“I know.”

 

“I don’t really say it a lot so I don’t – sometimes I don’t know if you know it. But it’s true.”

 

“I love you, too.”

 

“I know.” And Sirius smiled a genuine smile.

 

A week later, James came over with Harry while Lily took a much-needed nap. He handed the baby to Sirius and sat down on the sofa. Upon looking at the exchanged glances between Remus and Sirius, James promptly jumped up and cried, “No! You two had sex on that sofa, __didn’t you__?”

 

Remus and Sirius just laughed.

 

XXXXXXX

 

It didn’t take long for Remus to realize that he didn’t know what he was doing with girls. He was twenty-three but never had a real girlfriend. The only sex he had was with another man. Below the waist of a female body was a complete mystery to him. But there was something about going to find another man that didn’t sit right with him. Though Remus decided in order to fully get over Sirius he had to __move on__. 

 

Word had somehow gotten around school that he was gay. It didn’t seem to be much of a problem for he didn’t have too many friends and the ones he had didn’t speak of it. Remus figured people found out from Marcus. He trusted Dahlia enough to know she didn’t blab it around, but they did spend an inordinate amount of time together, something that her boyfriend probably didn’t like. Though, if Dahlia had reassured him by telling him Remus was gay . . . Remus wanted to be angry, but he couldn’t muster up enough energy. Dahlia was a great friend in so many ways, he couldn’t blame her for telling her boyfriend the semi-truth so that she and Remus could still be friends.

 

Towards the end of the term, Remus picked a book from the library. E. M. Forster was written on the cover below the title: Maurice. With a deep breath, Remus checked it out and headed towards Professor Ackers office. The professor was finishing up with a student, berating her for not keeping up with her reading.

 

“Ah, my favorite student. Read anything new lately?”

 

Remus sat down across from Ackers and plopped the book down on his desk. 

 

“Ah. __Maurice__.”

 

“Yes,” said Remus.

 

“What makes you think I would have read this book?”

 

“A feeling.”

 

“A feeling, eh? Are you going to out me to the school board?”

 

“What? No. Haven’t you heard the rumors about me?”

 

Professor Ackers shook his head. “No, I don’t really pay attention to rumors.”

 

“Professor Ackers—”

 

“Stop. Call me Rhys.”

 

“Er, right. Rhys. Can I shut the door?”

 

“Please.”

 

Remus reached behind him and swung the office door shut. “All right, see, the thing is I was pretty sure you liked men so I brought the book, figuring if I was right you would’ve read it, especially since you’re so literary.”

 

Ackers nodded. “You’re right. I’ve read it.”

 

“And?”

 

“And you’re right. I do have a certain predilection towards men. Is there a reason you’re bringing this up?”

 

“Well, I . . .” Remus hadn’t counted on Rhys Ackers being so forward. 

 

Ackers stood up and walked around his desk. He knelt down in front of Remus, placing his hands on the arms of the chair. 

 

“Do you want this?”

 

“I think so.”

 

Ackers nodded and leaned forward, pressing his mouth against Remus’. The kiss was soft and slow, tentative. Ackers was a full decade older than Remus and knew what he was doing, but then, so did Remus. He wasn’t a novice at this either. Familiar tingling sensations spread across his groin and suddenly the kiss began to taste of salt.

 

“Are you—?” Ackers began as he pulled away.

 

Remus’ hands flew to his cheeks. “Oh my god,” he said. His face heated up and he knew he was blushing a violent shade of red. “I’m sorry.”

 

“This isn’t some crisis of sexual identity, is it?”

 

Remus rubbed at his eyes and wiped the tears from his face. “No. Shit. __Shit__. I thought I was ready for this again.”

 

“Again?”

 

Remus nodded. “I had a boyfriend for four years. We broke up around Halloween of last year, in ’81. I really thought I was over him. I want to be over him, I really do, but if I cannot kiss someone without crying, perhaps I’m doomed to never be happy again.”

 

Ackers laughed and wiped some of the tears from Remus’ cheeks. “Don’t say that. Why did you breakup?”

 

“He went to prison for life. Involvement in illegal activity that led to the death of three of our best friends.”

 

“That’s heavy stuff to deal with, Remus.”

 

“You must think I’m some sort of child.”

 

Ackers shook his head. “No, I don’t. You’ve always come across as very much a man to me. If you want to get over your lover, perhaps I can be of some assistance. I don’t expect you fall in love with me, but we can have fun.”

 

“Good, because I’m not sure I can ever love anyone again. I’ve lost the ability to trust.”

 

“You can trust me. I’ll prove it to you.”

 

Remus nodded.

 

“Why don’t you meet me here tomorrow evening and we’ll dinner someplace close by. No pressure or hidden agendas. Just dinner.”

 

“All right. What time?”

 

“Six?”

 

“My mother is a bit of an invalid and I cook her supper at five and she goes to bed at seven. I can meet you after that.”

 

“Your mother’s an invalid?”

 

Remus nodded. “It’s very complicated.”

 

“You can tell me about it tomorrow. Half-seven, then? I’ll be here.”

 

They both stood up and Remus pressed another kiss to Rhys’ mouth before opening the office door and leaving.

 

He took the long walk to the Witch’s Brew, thinking about Rhys Ackers. He wondered if he could actually be with another man. The thought of making love seemed impossible. Remus figured he could probably be on top, but he didn’t think he could ever let another man inside him. That act was reserved for Sirius. Still, Remus genuinely liked Rhys and fancied him a bit, too. He realized that he might be gaining another lover, but there was no way he’d ever love Rhys the way he loved Sirius. It was an impossibility and Remus couldn’t help but wonder if he’d actually be fated for a loveless life. If only Sirius was innocent and would come back to him.

 

But that was a thought best served at night in his dreams.

 

XXXXXXX

 

****To Be Continued . . .** **

 

XXXXXXX

 

A/N: Maurice is a book written in the early-ish 1900s about a gay man. It was later turned into a movie by Merchant Ivory. I know some people aren’t particularly happy that Remus isn’t going to be celibate and pining away for 12 years. If you’ve read the first 2 stories in this series you know that take away the magic, I try to write fairly realistically and in reality, I think that a character (or a person) would try to move on and find new relationships and love. But Remus still loves Sirius, even at this point, over a year after they’ve been apart.


	4. Chapter 4

XXXXXXX

 

****PART IV** **

 

XXXXXXX

 

Christmas of that year, 1982, Remus buried his mother. She had a tombstone right next to Remus’ father and he couldn’t help but feel grateful she was finally gone. He wasn’t grateful for his own sake, but for hers. She was finally free from the prison her addled mind had been in and now she could join his father at that secret place everyone goes after death.

 

Remus packed all of his belongings. He kept a few things that belonged to his parents as mementos, but the rest he sold. He put the house up for sale on the Muggle market. A nice couple with three small, towheaded children bought it above the asking price. With a decent amount of money, Remus converted it into Galleons, stuffed it all in his Gringotts vault, and found a small flat closer to school. The flat was tiny, but he only needed room for himself.

 

He took the box full of things from his and Sirius’ house and pushed it back underneath his bed. One day he’d look through it, but not today. He wasn’t ready.

 

His friendship with Dahlia lessened as she spent more of her time with Marcus, her boyfriend. He was a decent man and tolerated Remus, even though he didn’t seem completely comfortable with the idea of his girlfriend being such good friends with another male. As Dahlia began the pull towards Marcus, Remus began spending his empty hours with Rhys. 

 

Since Dumbledore still wanted Remus to teach at the Muggle school, some of the time with Rhys was spent with schoolwork. Rhys was short and thin, but his personality overpowered him. Whenever he had a book open in front of him, Remus knew he wasn’t to be disturbed. They made love with their hands and their mouths, but Remus wouldn’t take it any further than that.

 

It was strange being with Rhys. They never discussed their relationship, never used the words “boyfriend” or “lover.” Remus didn’t have a telephone and couldn’t imagine getting one, so when Rhys wanted to see him he’d knock on his door. It wasn’t that Remus didn’t enjoy being with Rhys, because he did. He had the natural physical responses when Rhys touched him and he welcomed the open affection. Rhys was far more affectionate than Sirius ever was, but it felt empty. Something was lacking and Remus knew it was love. He fancied Rhys, he liked him, respected him, but he’d never be in love with him.

 

Around the end of May, Rhys came over with two sacks of groceries, raw ingredients that needed cooking. Remus didn’t tell him that his kitchen had never been used to cook food the Muggle way; he always heated everything up with his wand. 

 

That was another problem: Remus was a wizard and he had zero inclination to tell Rhys about it. He figured one day it would have to come up, especially since Rhys seemed very skeptical when Remus told him he went to The Albus Academy in Scotland. It was a school Rhys had never heard of, for an obvious reason, and Remus hated lying to him. In general, Remus didn’t like lying. His excuse that once a month he went back to his old school to visit was becoming more feeble as Rhys __somehow__ realized his monthly partings coincided with the full moons. Of course, being a Muggle, Rhys would never guess werewolf was an actual possibility, so Remus was thankful for that.

 

“What are you going to make?” Remus asked, looking through the sacks of food.

 

“You’ll see.”

 

Remus’ flat had a kitchen, one bedroom, and a living area. There wasn’t room for a dining table so they always sat on the sofa with their plates in their laps. Rhys didn’t seem to mind and Remus didn’t care. He was on his own and school took up too much of his time to get a job without a Time-Turner. The money from his parents’ house would get used up fairly quickly if he didn’t finish his classes and get the teaching position.

 

Sitting on the sofa, Remus grabbed his copy of Sherlock Holmes mysteries and opened it up to where he left off. He read several pages before Rhys came in with two plates full of hot food. One thing that Rhys had in common with Sirius was that he was always telling Remus he wasn’t eating enough. Remus ate; he ate a lot. It was just that he had to force himself to do so. Before Sirius was arrested, Remus was happy and ate several meals a day, but he simply never gained much weight. After Sirius was gone, Remus felt physically ill for several months. Eating became a chore. There was a constant taste of bile in his mouth. Food began to taste better and better the more time went time. Remus felt less ill, less depressed, but he was still miles away from happy.

 

“Thanks. It smells brilliant. You’ve never made me dinner before.”

 

“I need to ask you something.”

 

“Oh, and you needed to butter me up to do it?”

 

“You’re such a secretive sort of fellow that I wasn’t sure what you’d say.”

 

“Go on, then,” said Remus, “ask me.”

 

“At the end of the term there’s a literary conference in Cornwall, Penwith to be exact. We all stay in the hotels we choose and gather at a meeting hall to discuss the latest publications and new theories of old works. The purpose is to continue to educate the educators, but since you want to be a professor you could come. I think you’d enjoy the talks.”

 

“There’s no way I could—”

 

“I’d want you to stay with me. In my room.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“I’m offering the full extended weekend. I wouldn’t want you paying for anything. You’re a student without a job and I’ve nothing but extra money to throw around.”

 

“This is a really big step, isn’t it?”

 

Rhys shrugged. “It could be, for couples, but we’re having fun here, aren’t we? We can have fun here or we can have fun by the seaside. We’ve never spent the night together and I’m going to venture a guess and say that would most likely be fun, too.”

 

Remus nodded slowly. “Where does the bit about my secrecy play in?”

 

“If you stay with me, you stay in my room. People would talk.”

 

“You’re not afraid of being outed?”

 

“Not particularly,” said Rhys. “Of course, I could always get a room with two beds to keep up appearances if it really bothers you.”

 

“That’s very nice of you.”

 

“So you’ll come?”

 

“I . . .”

 

“I leave next Thursday evening and come back Monday afternoon. Term will be over, so you won’t have to miss any classes. If you want to go – and I hope you will – meet me at my house around three o’clock. I’ll drive us there.”

 

“All right,” said Remus, but he didn’t say any more and stuffed his mouth full of food.

 

When the next week came, Remus packed a small bag and zipped it up. He put it next to his front door and went to sit on the sofa. His watch read half-two. He didn’t get up.

 

“What is __wrong__ with me?” Remus leaned over and put his head in his hands. The Sirius he knew would have wanted him to be happy, to have sex freely and loudly, to not be tied down by the moons. Unfortunately, Remus wanted those things too, but he didn’t know how to get them. 

 

It was very confusing because if Sirius was dead, Remus would be able to be happy, for that’s what Sirius would have wanted. But Sirius wasn’t dead. He was locked up in prison and the Sirius Remus thought he knew wouldn’t have fed information to Voldemort. Something about Sirius’ imprisonment didn’t sit right with Remus, but there was really no other explanation. Sirius was Secret-Keeper; it had been planned and decided. He was the only one who knew where James and Lily were. If Sirius wanted to switch sides, fine, but why kill Peter? That was the piece of the puzzle that didn’t fit. But it came down to the facts: Sirius was Secret-Keeper and the Potters were dead.

 

So why did Remus feel so guilty about Rhys? Really, he had wanted to try his hand at girls. They were pretty and soft and he never got much of a chance to appreciate breasts – which were very lovely, especially when pushed up by undergarments and peeking through low-cut shirts. He was twenty-four now and that really seemed too old to just begin physical relationships with women. And he really did like men, so being with Rhys wasn’t terrible. Except he wasn’t __with__ Rhys and now it was 2:47 and he was still in his flat and not putting his suitcase in the boot of Rhys’ car.

 

“What is __wrong with me__?” Remus groaned again. The hands on his watch hit the one and the five and Remus officially felt like the world’s biggest prick. “Just Apparate over there,” he told himself. “Just . . . do it. Now . . . now . . . __now__ . . .” He didn’t get up; he sat on his sofa for another couple hours, his mind in shambles.

 

Remus let out a growl of frustration. Rhys was patient with him and he had stood him up. Remus didn’t want to be that kind of man. There was only one thing to do. He Apparated to Diagon Alley and ran straight to Gringotts. He barely got there before close and went to his vault quickly to gather some money. He had no idea how much the Knight Bus would cost, but he needed it to get him to the hotel in Cornwall.

 

The ride was bumpy and fast and Remus got off the bus an hour later feeling rather sick to his stomach. When he looked at his watch this time, it was past nine o’clock. He had waited for the Knight Bus for nearly two hours before it showed up in front of the Leaky Cauldron. Still, the Bus was cheaper than a Muggle taxi would have been and Remus wasn’t daring enough to Apparate someplace he’d never been.

 

The hotel was white and looked like an old mansion. He went inside and inquired about Rhys’ room, explaining that he was running late. Then he asked if the room was a double. When the lady shook her head, Remus swore for good measure, asking if she could send up a cot bed for him.

 

“Professor Ackers must’ve thought I wasn’t coming, otherwise I’m sure he would’ve asked for a double room.”

 

The lady directed him up the stairs towards room number twelve. The door was locked and Rhys didn’t answer when Remus knocked so he took out his wand and opened the door with magic.

 

After turning on the light, Remus saw that there was a rather large bed in the middle of the room and a small suitcase on top of it. A desk was crammed against the wall near the floor-to-ceiling window and on it was a briefcase Remus immediately recognized as Rhys’. Deciding he should just wait, Remus took out the same copy of Sherlock Holmes mysteries that he was trying to finish and sat down in the armchair on the other side of the window.

 

He read the same paragraph twice without realizing it, but it didn’t matter because just as he was about to read it for the third time, the doorknob opened and Rhys came in – with another man.

 

“Er,” said Remus, jumping out of the armchair. He felt oddly like a teenager caught reading dirty magazines by his father, which was silly because Rhys had invited him so there was no reason why Remus shouldn’t be in his room.

 

“Oh,” said Rhys, looking very surprised. He turned to the man who came into the room with him. “This is Remus – my best student. I invited him this weekend, thinking he might find it useful. He’s finished all his classes and will begin teaching secondary school in September.” 

 

“Right, well . . . I didn’t know I could make it until you had already left. I, er, asked the lady at the desk for a rollaway bed . . . she said all the double rooms were full and seeing as I’m living on a student’s salary, which means I’ve no money . . .”

 

“Quite all right,” said Rhys. He went to the desk and opened up his briefcase. “I thought I brought it – ah! Here it is!” He handed his copy of __Alice__ to the other man. “We were discussing the Jabberwocky at dinner. It seems as though I’m the only one who had a copy of it.”

 

“Marion and I will see you at breakfast – Marion’s my wife,” the man added, looking at Remus. He nodded his head in a goodbye and left. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Remus said immediately, as soon as the door clicked shut. “Was he really here to borrow your copy of __Alice__?”

 

“I didn’t think you were coming.”

 

Remus shrugged. “I’m sorry,” he said again uselessly. “I came, though.”

 

“Why did you?”

 

“I wanted to.”

 

“You wanted to spend the weekend with me or you wanted to make sure I wasn’t angry?”

 

“I wanted to spend the weekend with you.”

 

“Is that the truth or the answer you think I want to hear?”

 

Remus swallowed. He didn’t even know any of the answers anymore. “I don’t know.”

 

“You worrying all the time takes away part of the fun.”

 

“I’m tired of that word,” said Remus. “I’m not having fun with anyone else, are you?”

 

“Are we only supposed to have fun with each other?”

 

“We never said, but that’s what I’d like.”

 

“Then that’s what we can have.”

 

“Did you . . . have fun with other men?” asked Remus, not sure he wanted the answer.

 

Rhys laughed. “Why would you ask me that? You know I’m going to say no, but you’re not going to believe me.”

 

“You’re right,” said Remus. “Though I wouldn’t necessarily blame you. I haven’t let us do the things most gay men do.”

 

“But you’re not gay.”

 

“Right. That’s neither here nor there. I’m saying that right now, I wouldn’t blame you. After this weekend, I will.”

 

Rhys nodded and opened his mouth to say something, but Remus swallowed his words. They kissed and Remus steered them towards the bed, taking off their clothes. This was the ultimate attempt at happiness, right here, right now. Remus needed this to work out, to prove he could overcome the past and be a new man. He pressed himself against Rhys’ back and took him, grateful that when he opened his eyes the hair he saw was blonde and the shoulders broad instead of narrow. There was no way he could pretend this was anyone other than Rhys.

 

As he came, Remus and Sirius’ relationship was officially severed. There was no more past; there was only now. As he breathed in the breath of a new man, Remus swore he could almost hear Sirius’ cries from Azkaban.

 

XXXXXXX

 

Their last Christmas together was spent at Remus’ parents house. His mum cooked dinner and pies – apple, Sirius’ favorite – while his dad tried to beat Sirius at wizard’s chess. Remus’ father was being especially nice this holiday. At least twice a month, Remus and Sirius came over for dinner. Remus would help his mum clean up while Sirius smoked cigarettes outside with Mr. Lupin. While he wasn’t openly hostile, Remus’ dad constantly looked for things wrong with Sirius. He asked him question after question, trying to find something he didn’t like or approve of. That last Christmas, however, he seemed to have been poisoned with Christmas cheer and had laughed at Sirius’ jokes on several occasions.

 

Somehow, Remus’ mum had talked them into staying for a couple days, which meant they were both sleeping in Remus’ old bedroom. They didn’t dare fool around, but it was somehow nice being wrapped up in Sirius with layers of clothes between them.

 

On Christmas night, Sirius kissed Remus’ neck and ran his hands underneath his shirt. He fingered a row of scars on the left side of Remus’ chest, over his ribs. Suddenly, he sat up and sat on Remus’ middle, yanking up his shirt.

 

“Sirius! What’re you—”

 

“Shut it, I’m counting. There’s __eight__.”

 

Remus looked down at his chest. “Eight what? Have you a fever? You’re not making any sense.”

 

“I __know__ your body, Moony. I’ve kissed those scars practically everyday since we were eighteen. There were seven of them, but now there’s this one” – his fingers were cold against Remus’ chest – “and it’s new. Where’d you get it?”

 

Remus pushed Sirius’ hands off his body and lowered his shirt. “I don’t know.”

 

“Don’t lie to me, Remus, don’t fucking lie.”

 

“You’re going to be so angry . . .”

 

Sirius visibly paled. “Why?” He looked panicked. “Did some other bloke give that to you? Did a __girl__?”

 

“Shove off, Pads, I didn’t cheat on you. A werewolf gave it to me.”

 

“When did you meet another werewolf?”

 

“Dumbledore asked me to scout for new potential Order members. I didn’t do much, but tried to convince a couple of lycanthropes I met in Scotland that the Ministry wasn’t all that bad, really, and we could live normal lives, but they didn’t believe me. It was right before the moon so we all ran together, way out in the woods, and one of them fought me. It was like a challenge.”

 

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“It was only the one time?”

 

“Yes,” said Remus, then after a pause he added, “in Scotland.”

 

Sirius pushed his hair away from his gray eyes. “How many times in other places?”

 

“I don’t know. I’ve been going all over, though. I use the Floo Network and find rouge werewolves. The first attempts were to make lycanthropes from here or Scotland or Ireland come to our side, but that wasn’t working and there really wasn’t enough __time__. Something big is going to happen with Voldemort soon, I can feel it.”

 

“We all can,” said Sirius. “So what’ve you been doing instead?”

 

“Oh. Near the full moons I’ve been going around Europe – __all__ over, everywhere – and asking to join rouge packs during the transformation. I make up stories, like I was kicked out of my house or my girlfriend broke up with me and I haven’t found my bearings and I need some help during the change. They’ve all been very understanding and it’s really quite amazing being around people who __understand__.”

 

“What’s the point of being around them?”

 

“We don’t know where Voldemort is, do we? But we know he has some werewolves on his side. I try to initiate conversation and talk to them and see if they know anything. It’s been really difficult with loads of language barriers, but a surprising number of lycanthropes from other countries speak English.”

 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” asked Sirius. “I would’ve understood. I thought it was odd that your mother suddenly wanted you to start transforming here. She lied for you, didn’t she?”

 

“I asked her to tell you that I was coming here if you asked”

 

Sirius shook his head. “All these lies, Remus. Why?”

 

“Because they’re animals – __I’m__ an animal. It’s disgusting the way these lycanthropes act. They see their transformation as a time to be free. I think of it as being trapped. I feel as though I lose a bit of myself every time I change, but them . . . they transform and love it. They count down the days until the full moon in anticipation, not dread. I didn’t want to tell you about it and have you think I was anything like that.”

 

“You’re completely gormless, you know that?”

 

“I didn’t like them and I’m glad I have people who don’t care I’m a werewolf. Still, it was nice knowing there were people who understood the pain of changing – the physical pain. Don’t get me wrong, some of the lycanthropes hated being werewolves. I really was able to identify with them, but I couldn’t convince them that they didn’t have to let being a werewolf control their lives. Though, I see their point. Sometimes I feel like that. Just when a moon is over the next one is just around the corner.”

 

“It’s only for one night and the rest of the month you’re with me, aren’t you?”

 

“You don’t understand, Sirius. The moon will never end.”

 

“Neither will I. You act like this is some fucking passing phase sometimes and I don’t like it.”

 

“This isn’t a phase and I do __not__ act as though it is!”

 

“Then why didn’t you tell me?” Sirius grabbed Remus’ hand, the one that had the ring, and touched it. “If this meant something to you then you would’ve told me.”

 

“I’m telling you now. I could’ve come up with another excuse, but I’m telling you the truth. I’m telling you now. No more lies, Sirius. I’ll tell you everything you want to know about the werewolves from now on. I’ll tell you everything you want to know in general. No secrets.”

 

“Really?”

 

Remus nodded. “Really. I promise.”

 

“Then I forgive you. But you got to stop, y’know, thinking you’re like them. You’re not. You’re human – even if the bloody Ministry says you’re part-wizard or sub-human or whatever their classification for werewolves is. I don’t think like that and neither do your parents or our friends. Right?”

 

Remus nodded again.

 

“D’you believe me?”

 

“Yes.” 

 

Sirius got off Remus’ middle and laid down next to him again. Their arms and legs tangled together as usual. It took them a while to get to this place, where they were comfortable enough to be affectionate with one another all the time. They used to go to sleep on their own sides of the bed, but now they liked to sleep together, as one.

 

“How much longer d’you have to do this? With the werewolf groups I mean?”

 

“Until I’ve seen them all, I suppose. There’re more groups out there than you’d think. Every region has one. Some of the bigger countries have two or three and I can only see one every full moon.”

 

“Next time you go, I want to hear about it. No more secrets.”

 

Remus nodded and kissed Sirius, briefly, but soundly. As far as Remus knew, there weren’t any more secrets after that. He was an open book and he thought Sirius was, too. October 31, 1981 made him realize just how many secrets they must have truly had from one another. Luckily, that Christmas they were still together and Remus was blissfully ignorant of what was going to happen in the future as he let Sirius’ hands slip into his pajama bottoms. He covered his mouth with his pillow to muffle his moans so that his parents wouldn’t overhear.

 

Somehow, being in his parents’ house made the act dirtier and somehow it made him love Sirius even more.

 

XXXXXXX

 

In autumn of 1983, Remus began teaching at a Muggle preparatory school. The boys all wore gray trousers and wine-red blazers, the girls in red and gray plaid skirts with pleats. Everyone wore ties, including the faculty, and black shoes. Remus was instantly the favorite. He was the youngest employee and none of the other professors quite trusted him.

 

The student Dumbledore wanted him to watch was already seven years old by the time Remus got there. He didn’t have much luck with the boy, though Remus suspected that by accepting Dumbledore’s request to get a proper Muggle education over how to teach English grammar and literature was an attempt to draw him out of his depression and save him. When Remus realized this, he knew he owed Dumbledore his life and his loyalty. He’d do whatever the man needed him to do. 

 

When the boy turned eleven, he went to Durmstrang and Remus was promptly sacked for taking too much time off of work. 

 

“Once a month,” said the Headmaster, shaking his head, “I didn’t realize how often it was, but really – this is unacceptable.”

 

Remus took the rejection and ran a couple ads in the __Daily Prophet__ and the Muggle newspaper. He had the skills and the knowledge to teach Muggle children literature or wizarding children history of magic. Many magical parents wanted their children to learn about British history and wizard literature and those were the people who employed Remus first. Unfortunately, the jobs were never consistent and Remus was poor.

 

The relationship with Rhys lasted until Remus lost his job. Remus was poor and he could hardly pay for his flat, but he wasn’t a charity case. He didn’t want to move into Rhys’ house. Sirius had done everything to turn his house into __their__ house, but Remus knew he would never think of Rhys’ house as his own. Rhys began to pick up the bill at every dinner, began to offer to buy him new shirts, a new coat. Remus didn’t want any of that. He wanted to do it on his own.

 

The money from his parents’ house had dried up, leaving Remus stretching his last pound (or Galleon, as the case may be) until it could stretch no more. Rhys couldn’t stand back and watch Remus wear himself down; it became too much for him to handle. So he left. Remus didn’t stop him from going and almost welcomed it. He had allowed himself to be happy for a while and his thoughts of Sirius were far and in between.

 

He stopped looking for relationships after Rhys. When the urges became too overwhelming he gave into them, one night at a time. It didn’t happen often, but he was only human, flesh like any other man, and his hand could only offer him so much relief. 

 

Remus celebrated turning thirty with Dahlia, who was happily married to a man named Edward Vreeland. Somehow they had kept up with their friendship by having lunch once a month, always on a Saturday at the same café where they first met. She brought pictures of her two children and Remus felt a sudden pang that he had never experienced before.

 

When he watched Sirius play with Harry he got that similar rush of emotion, but nothing this powerful. Perhaps it was because he was getting older and the realizations that he would never have a family were beginning to become more real. Dahlia and her husband looked so happy with the kids – and the children themselves were beautiful. Remus never knew how he wanted that, but he did. Not just the family, but the relationship, the love. But he’d forgotten how to get those things and it had been so long, Remus wondered if it was too late.

 

Four years later, Remus told Dahlia he was moving away to get a job, but he would write to her and hopefully they could get together over Christmas when he had a break from work. 

 

“Where are you going?” she asked at their last lunch date.

 

“Scotland. There’s a school there.”

 

“Oh? What’s it called?”

 

He fingered the broken Hogwarts seal on the letter from Dumbledore in his pocket. “The Albus Academy,” he answered, his lips turning up in what was the first genuine smile in months.

 

XXXXXXX

 

****To Be Continued . . .** **

 

XXXXXXX


	5. Part V

Disclaimer: Some dialogue blatantly stolen from JKR and Harry Potter Year 3. For obvious reasons. Sue me. 

 

XXXXXXX

 

****PART V** **

 

XXXXXXX

 

He heard someone say __Professor__ in his sleep, but it wasn’t enough to wake him. He dreamt about being in a classroom again, teaching. The night before he was supposed to go to Hogwarts to teach was the full moon. He stayed at his tiny flat and curled up into a ball by the fireplace during the transformation. Even though a few months ago Dumbledore had come bearing a new potion that would allow him to keep his mind during the moons, the change still took a toll on his body. He could still think like Remus, but it was difficult to fall asleep and when he woke up at sunrise, the transformation back to human left lasting exhaustion behind.

 

Still, to be able to stay at home during the full moons . . .

 

But that was last night. The week before the moon, Remus had packed his things inside a large bottomless trunk. From under his bed he’d taken his old briefcase. Rhys had bought it for him before he began teaching at the Muggle school ten years ago. His name was on the front: R. J. Lupin. At the time, it had been a very nice-looking briefcase, fine leather and delicate engraving. The name was now peeling, but it was the only briefcase Remus had.

 

Packing his things to go to Hogwarts was rather surreal. He remembered the first time he did so, when he was eleven. Deciding which books to take had been difficult. In the end, he chose them all. If he didn’t make any friends, at least he had his books. It was an awful thing to think about, but really, he didn’t have friends in the first place. He did before he got bitten by the werewolf, but then he became so frightened to leave his house and his parents worried and fretted so much that having fun was not worth it. He thought that anyone who saw him could tell he was a werewolf.

 

Leaving his parents on the platform was scarier than the full moons – at least with the moons, Remus knew what to expect. Even though he passed several compartments with children his age in them, he found one to himself. He stowed his trunk and pulled out his book to read. The yellowing pages and the spine, cracked and creased from wear, was his safety blanket.

 

“Mind if I sit here?”

 

Remus shook his head. A small boy with long black hair entered and sat down.

 

“Know what house you’ll be in?”

 

“No. My mum was in Ravenclaw. . . .”

 

“Mine was in Slytherin. That’s the one I hope to get in.”

 

“Oh.” Remus had heard stories about Slytherin. They were a bunch of kids only concerned with themselves. Some of them had turned out all right, but most were rich and stuck-up. Not the sort Remus wanted to associate with. 

 

“Tried any spells yet?”

 

Remus shook his head.

 

“My parents let me try a bunch of Dark Arts stuff. It was ace.”

 

“Ace?”

 

“It means brilliant,” said the black haired boy, rolling his eyes.

 

“Oh.”

 

Just then, the compartment door flew open and another black haired boy fell inside, landing on Remus’ feet.

 

“Hello,” he said from the floor. “Sorry ‘bout that. Some bloody seventh-year just jinxed me. Apparently my dad cheated his dad out of a couple thousand Galleons. Cheers, mates.”

 

The boy scrambled to his feet and fixed his hair. “I’m Sirius Black.”

 

“Oh, er, I’m Remus Lupin.”

 

“What kind of name is Remus?”

 

“I don’t know. What kind of name is Sirius?”

 

The boy called Sirius smirked and turned his head the other way. “Who’re you?” he asked.

 

“Severus. Are you from __the__ Black family?”

 

“Yah, y’know, Walbuggera’s my mum.”

 

“Walburga Black?”

 

“Yeah, whatever.”

 

“ _ _Brilliant__ ,” breathed Severus. “We’ll probably be in the same house, then.”

 

“Merlin, I hope not! My family’s full of people who’re completely off their rockers. Totally insane. It’s all the inbreeding, y’know. I think I’m clever enough for Ravenclaw, but I’d rather die a million deaths than be in Slytherin.”

 

“There’s nothing wrong with Slytherin!” defended Severus.

 

Remus opened his book back up and tried to read again.

 

“I just want to get in a different house to make my mum angry. I wish I could see her flail about when I get to owl her and tell her I’m not in Slytherin.”

 

Remus looked up at this and noticed something in Sirius’ eyes. They looked unsure, as though the boy wasn’t entirely certain that he wanted to be Sorted outside of the house his family had been in for generations. He probably daydreamed about getting into Ravenclaw or Gryffindor, but he probably didn’t really want to get into those houses, either.

 

Sirius caught Remus’ eye and he immediately looked back down at his book. 

 

“See you at the feast. I’ve got a seventh-year to curse.”

 

And with that, Sirius Black left the compartment. Remus read the rest of the journey to Hogwarts. Little did he know then that the boy who fell on his feet and called his mum Walbuggera would end up being his first love.

 

The train rides after that were spent with James, Peter, and Sirius. James and Sirius plotted something to do to whichever compartment Severus was in while Peter anxiously waited for instructions. Their very last train ride at the end of seventh year was much different. James had to patrol with Lily, and Peter sat with the girl he had been dating. Remus and Sirius were very quiet and very serious on that ride back to London. Halfway there, Remus fell asleep with his head against the window; Sirius fell asleep with his head against Remus.

 

At thirty-four years old, Remus had much of the same anxiety as when he first packed for school. The new anxiety wasn’t about teaching classes – he was a very popular professor the two years he did it and whenever he tutored students they always loved him. Rather, it was over the memories that Hogwarts would invoke. Not to mention that Harry Potter would be a student now, in his third year. Harry who Remus used to baby-sit for with Sirius. Harry who fell asleep on his stomach while they lay on the sofa waiting for Sirius to make dinner. Harry who had looked exactly like James except with Lily’s eyes. 

 

Remus couldn’t decide whether to avoid Harry or seek him out. Unfortunately, the decision was made for him as he was woken up by dementors on the Hogwarts Express and found himself in the company of Harry Potter and his friends.

 

The cold woke him up first. It was unexpected and a feeling flew through Remus’ body, the same feeling he had had the day he found out that Sirius was in Azkaban and James, Peter, and Lily were dead. It was a feeling of forever. As though he’d be stuck feeling a mixture of pain, dread, isolation, and denial until he died. A mixture so intense, he actually wished he __could__ die. 

 

Remus jumped up from his seat and found himself looking directly at a dementor. The quick joy of being able to teach again was sucked out of him, leaving him swimming in memories of reading the headlines in the __Daily Prophet__ – about Sirius Black being sent to Azkaban. He blinked up into the black hooded, shadowed face of the dementor, feeling the sadness stretch out into forever, as though the creature was in his head. 

 

__Alone_. _

 

That’s how he felt. But Remus knew he had to do something. It wasn’t likely that any of the students had been taught about dementors, not if the last couple of Defense professors were as terrible as the rumors said. He tried to think of good memories, of happy times. He tried to think of something strong enough to cast his Patronus. Even though he didn’t want to use it, Remus knew he had no other choice.

 

He concentrated on the look on Sirius’ face when he gave him the silver-colored ring. It had been a look of surprise and love. In that moment, Remus had been completely happy, thinking they would be together forever; no one could come between them. Using that memory, Sirius’ eyes, the look of the rings on their hands, Remus silently shouted __Expecto patronum__ as he raised his wand.

 

A silvery substance escaped from the end of his wand, became corporeal, and charged the dementor. Soon, warmth crept back into the compartment and Remus was horrified to see Harry Potter passed out on the floor. His friends surrounded him, trying to wake him up. Remus’ hands shook as he dug into his briefcase for a bar of chocolate. He had a package of chocolate in his trunk; he wanted to be prepared because Dumbledore had told him there would be dementors surrounding Hogwarts that year.

 

“Here. Eat it. It’ll help.” Remus offered a piece of chocolate to Harry who was just waking up. The resemblance to James almost knocked the breath out of Remus’ lungs. Harry looked down at the chocolate as though he’d never seen any before. Remus resisted the urge to lecture on the importance of chocolate.

 

Chocolate was happiness, passion, fulfilled cravings and elicited smiles. It was the complete opposite of a dementor and able to bring back the warmth that dementors stole.

 

“What was that thing?” asked Harry, looking small and skinny – and young. Very, very young.

 

“A dementor. . . . One of the dementors of Azkaban.” Remus gave the other kids pieces of chocolate. “Eat. It’ll help. I need to speak to the driver, excuse me.”

 

He quickly exited the compartment and went into the corridor. He shoved some of the chocolate into his mouth and let it melt on his tongue. Taking in a deep breath, he began to make his way towards the front of the train, wondering how he was going to make it having to look at Harry’s face day after day. 

 

The driver didn’t have anything useful to say as the train continued on its way to Hogwarts. Remus went back to the compartment to check up on Harry. They made their way to Hogwarts in silence. 

 

Sitting at the table with the other professors was strange. Remus felt a heated stare from down at the other end of the table, but didn’t dare look in Severus’ direction. Severus was being extremely kind by brewing the Wolfsbane Potion every month for him, no doubt under Dumbledore’s orders, but nevertheless, the past three months the potion had been perfect and Remus had no reason to believe that future batches would be any different.

 

His robes were patched and he knew he looked sickly, as he often did after a full moon. However, he was still a professor and when Dumbledore introduced him, he got an applause. The feast was brilliant, everything delicious. Remus hadn’t eaten this well in ages. As soon as the feast was over, Remus retreated to his quarters and undressed. He threw on a pair of old pajama bottoms, the knees worn so thin they were almost see-through. Going to the window next to his bed, Remus pushed the curtains aside and looked out at the countryside. Behind Hogwarts, hills rose and fell until they collided with the horizon. Being back felt good, felt amazing, but the flood of memories and emotions it brought back were overwhelming. 

 

For once, Remus was glad to have the exhaustion that the full moon brought. He collapsed on his stomach on his bed, falling asleep before he could even pull the blankets over his body.

 

XXXXXXX

 

Remus woke up with a start. He looked at the clock. 2:04 PM blinked back at him. His eyes scanned the room until he found his calendar pinned to the wall. Spent days had red slashes through them, 18 days total, making that day the 19th of May, 1981. 

 

The bedroom door cracked open and Sirius peered inside.

 

“Oh,” he said, “you’re awake.”

 

Remus rubbed his eyes. A searing pain shot through his shoulder as he tried to move it. “ _ _Ouch__. What am I doing here?”

 

“Sleeping.”

 

Remus closed his eyes. “Yes, but why?” He heard Sirius’ loud footsteps cross the room. The mattress creaked at the extra weight as Sirius sat down.

 

“I followed you.”

 

“You are such an __idiot__ ,” said Remus, his voice tense and firm. He felt Sirius’ hands against his shoulder. “ _ _Ouch__ – what are you doing?” He opened his eyes.

 

“I don’t think you can see it, but it’s really bad.”

 

“If you followed me, then you can tell me what happened.”

 

Sirius shook his head. “No, I stayed away from you and the others. I’m not an idiot, even though you think I am. I found the note Dumbledore sent you, asking you to go to Bulgaria and see if any of the werewolves there knew where Voldemort was. Something about a group of wolves who are already on Voldemort’s side?”

 

Remus nodded and let Sirius press something cold and wet against his shoulder. Whatever potion or salve he was using smoked upon contact. The pain was intense, but Remus could feel his skin pulling together to cover whatever cut or gash he had. He didn’t want to look at it. Enough scars tattooed his body; he didn’t need to see another one.

 

“So you followed me?”

 

“Yeah. I tried sleeping in this crappy hotel, but I couldn’t. I mean – I knew you were out there and you’re doing your thing – mission – for Dumbledore so I can’t be there when you transform. . . . I really wanted to be Padfoot last night.”

 

“The Bulgarian lycanthropes wouldn’t have liked it. They would have chased you away.”

 

“I got that. I sort-of spied on you for a mo’ or two. They were really aggressive. I got, like, this feeling . . . that they knew where he was. Voldemort, the giant sod that’s ruining our lives.”

 

Remus tried a weak smile. Sirius bandaged his shoulder again and then eased him back down on the bed.

 

“You looked in a right state of awfulness, my friend. So I Apparated us back here. You’re un-fucking-believable, d’you know that?”

 

“What?”

 

“Your strength . . .” Sirius shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. . . . Before I left, I heard one of them ask you about the ring.”

 

Remus reached out for Sirius and pulled him down on the bed next to him. He curled into him, letting Sirius blanket him.

 

“Loads of people ask about the ring,” mumbled Remus. 

 

“No one from the Order.”

 

“I don’t think they pay attention that they’re the same on both our hands. But you heard that bloke ask me, then?”

 

“Yeah – but I didn’t hear your answer.”

 

Remus breathed in Sirius’ scent and yawned. “He asked me if it was a wedding ring . . . asked if I was ma-ma-married.” Remus yawned again. “I made something up. I told him I was married once, but when I became a werewolf my wife broke the marriage off, citing rules and regulations about werewolves and bonding ceremonies. Then I said . . .”

 

“What did you say?” prompted Sirius, nudging Remus.

 

“Then I said that since we broke up I had nothing to live for. My life was nothing. I was nothing. I was dangerous and poor and unemployed, so I might as well find some people who understood what I had to go through once a month.”

 

“D’you really think they understand you better than I do?”

 

“About transformations, yes, but you know me better than anyone else. They’d never understand me in the ways you do.”

 

Sirius’ mouth was warm against Remus’ temple. “If you left me,” he said, “I’d be nothing.”

 

“I’m not going to.” Remus hugged Sirius closer to him and fell asleep. 

 

Four hours later, he woke up. The bed was empty so he got up. Remus walked through the house to the kitchen and found Sirius stirring a pot full of stew.

 

“Soup,” said Sirius with an apologetic shrug. “It’s all I know how to make.”

 

“It’s fine.” Remus sat down at the kitchen table. He fingered the carving Sirius had made of his name. It was deep. “Why did you do this?”

 

Sirius turned and looked at the __REMUS__ carving. He shrugged. “You wouldn’t move in and I was just – I was confused and angry. Thought you didn’t want to be here. I put that there. It made you seem closer, I suppose, when you were spending nights at your parents’ house. Even if you weren’t here, your name was . . . and I’m a girl so it made me feel better.”

 

“You are not a girl. Though, you do prefer the bottom, but that doesn’t give you mammary glands. You’re very much a man, Sirius.”

 

“I look at it when you’re gone,” Sirius blurted. “When you’re traveling around Europe with your werewolf packs.”

 

“Why?”

 

Sirius shrugged. “Because I keep thinking you’re going to die out there. And I’ll be here. Making fucking stew.” Sirius threw the spoon into the pot and sat down at the table, shoving his head in his hands. “You make me a mess – a fucking __mess__ with this werewolf business.”

 

“I’m sorry,” whispered Remus, feeling very tired again, but not wanting to fall asleep right on the table. He forced his eyes to stay open. “When you go off gallivanting about doing Order missions, I worry about you, too.” He yawned.

 

“Come on. I’m taking you back to bed.”

 

Remus allowed Sirius to help him up. He laid back in bed, Sirius pulling the covers over him. He grabbed Sirius’ hand before Sirius turned to leave him alone to sleep.

 

“I don’t want you to – to—” He paused and yawned. “—to leave me . . . ever.”

 

If Sirius replied, Remus never heard it. He fell asleep again and didn’t wake up until morning, wrapped tightly around Sirius.

 

XXXXXXX

 

The ’93 school year was punctuated with happenings with Harry Potter. The first was on the first day of teaching the Gryffindor third-years. A boggart had hidden himself in the staffroom and Remus thought it the perfect opportunity to teach his third-years about them. They weren’t the first creature to study in the textbooks, but it would still be a good lesson.

 

When it came time for Harry to face it, Remus realized how foolish it would be to have Voldemort appear in front of the class. After all, how would one make Voldemort ridiculous? So he jumped in front of it and the boggart became a moon. Horrified, Remus changed the boggart into a falling cockroach and sent it to Neville once again.

 

Rumors flew around the school about Snape wearing a dress. It didn’t help pave the rocky road to good intra-staff relations, but Remus couldn’t help but laugh at the memory of Snape in a large hat. 

 

A few days after the incident, Snape wandered into the staffroom where Dumbledore and Remus sat, exchanging sections of the newspaper. Snape’s perpetual scowl deepened.

 

“Ah, Severus,” said Remus, “how are you?”

 

Snape’s answer was to sneer.

 

“Good afternoon, Severus,” said Dumbledore, looking at Snape over the rims of his glasses. “I hear your NEWT students made a successful batch of Veritaserum?”

 

“One of them did, yes,” answered Snape. His eyes moved to Remus. “It’s perfect . . . could easily be used . . .”

 

“Say, Albus?” Remus ventured, “have you heard about how lovely our Potions Master looks when he camps it up?” *

 

“Oh? No, I daresay I haven’t. New hobby, then, Severus?” The corners of Dumbledore’s mouth twitched.

 

Snape visibly shook with anger. “I do not __camp it up__ , as you say, Lupin. Though you should know, shouldn’t you? Being the one who lies around in other men’s beds.”

 

Remus was taken aback for a moment. He hadn’t realized anyone knew about that other than the handful of people he and Sirius specifically told. Instead of getting angry, Remus smiled.

 

“I daresay you know nothing of the beds I have been in. Though the ones I have visited were never while wearing women’s clothing. That’s a kink even I haven’t tried.” Remus put his paper down and got up. He walked to the staffroom door. “Really, Albus, you should’ve seen him. Severus is quite fetching with a vulture on his head.”

 

With that, Remus left the room, howling with laughter.

 

Not everything was laughter that term. When Harry walked by his office weeks later, Remus couldn’t help but call out to him. Being around Harry was like being about Sirius and James again. It was nice to look into those eyes and see Lily. Sharing tea with Harry was nothing like the short encounter after the Quidditch match in which Harry fell off his broomstick.

 

Remus should have expected Harry to mention Sirius Black. He should have realized that Harry would be just as curious as James, just as ready to learn about Azkaban and the dementors, especially since those were the things he feared most.

 

“Azkaban must be terrible,” Harry mumbled.

 

“The fortress is set on a tiny island, way out to sea, but they don’t need walls and water to keep the prisoners in, not when they’re all trapped inside their own heads, incapable of a single cheerful thought. Most of them go mad within weeks.”

 

“But Sirius Black escaped from them,” said Harry. “He got away. . . .”

 

Remus dropped his briefcase at the sound of Sirius’ names coming from Harry’s mouth. The name he had tried not to think of for ages was now spoken nearly every day by students and faculty alike. Luckily, Remus was able to cover up his fumble, but had somehow agreed to help teach Harry about the Patronus Charm. He made Harry wait until after Christmas, however.

 

Christmas that year was spent back in London. He had given up his flat when he went to Hogwarts, knowing it would be better to save all the money he could and find another flat when he was through teaching. There was a small hope that he might never have to get a flat ever again if he could stay on staff indefinitely.

 

He met Dahlia for dinner on Christmas Eve. She wore very simple clothes and kept her hands in her lap. They ate their meal with small chitchat. Dahlia was careful not to ask about Remus’ love life. She had given up long ago hoping that he would find another partner to spend his life with. With Rhys, Remus knew she had been hopeful, but that relationship had seemed to kill his spirit for love altogether.

 

“How’re the kids?” Remus asked.

 

“With their father at his flat.”

 

“. . . What?”

 

“We split up.”

 

“When?”

 

“About the time you left.”

 

“You never said—”

 

Dahlia waved a dismissive hand. “I know I didn’t. I didn’t want you to stay here and not take the job, thinking you needed to take care of me somehow. You have a very . . . unique sense of honor, you know?”

 

“I would defend your honor if it needed defending, yes.”

 

“You’re a good friend, Remus.”

 

“I’m sorry that your marriage hasn’t worked out. Is there any chance?”

 

Dahlia shook her head. “No. None. It’s all right. I do need to move on, though. You’re going to stay at my house, yeah?”

 

Remus blinked, trying to gauge her meaning. She paid the bill before he even had a chance to take out his wallet.

 

“You can pay me back later,” she said with a playful smile. 

 

A few hours later, he was asleep, naked, in between sweaty sheets with his fingers knotted in long, black hair.

 

Back at Hogwarts, the first lesson regarding the Patronus went rather well. Remus was overly surprised at Harry’s knack for Defense; it was clearly his best subject. Harry gave it several good tries, but Remus knew that Poppy would fillet him alive if he allowed Harry to get overly taxed.

 

“Here,” said Remus, handing Harry a chocolate bar. “Eat the lot, or Madam Pomfrey will be after my blood. Same time next week?” 

 

It was insane; Remus was actually __hopeful__ – he really liked getting to know Harry. It wasn’t only because he was the missing link to his past, but it was also because Harry made him fill out his role as professor to the greatest extent. He was __teaching__ again and it felt brilliant.

 

“Okay,” said Harry.

 

Remus smiled and turned to put some of the lights out in the classroom. He heard Harry munch on the chocolate.

 

“Professor Lupin?”

 

Ah, Remus really loved the sound of that. __Professor Lupin__. 

 

“If you knew my dad, you must’ve known Sirius Black as well.”

 

Remus faltered for a moment and turned his head quickly around to look at Harry. “What gives you that idea?” he snapped. He instantly regretted his tone.

 

“Nothing – I mean, I just knew they were friends at Hogwarts too. . . .”

 

“Yes, I knew him. Or I thought I did.” Such true words. Even after twelve years, Remus had no idea who Sirius Black was. Evil or not, he had been Remus’ first love. He wasn’t in love with Sirius any longer, but the name still sent shivers down his spine.

 

The next great interlude involving Harry happened later. Remus sat at his desk, reading a rather lovely letter from Dahlia. He had given her the address of a wizard in the next town over who took in all the mail from Muggle relatives of Hogwarts students. Once a week he sent a large owl to the school and the letters and packages were handed out at breakfast. This letter was sweet, but they hadn’t written about their few nights together around the Christmas holiday. He had barely reached the __Sincerely yours__ when Snape’s voice boomed from the fireplace.

 

Remus stepped through the fireplace and into Snape’s office. Harry sat, looking uneasy and lost. Remus brushed the soot from his robes and cleared his throat. 

 

“You called, Severus?”

 

Snape thrust some old parchment at him. Suddenly, Remus’ hands felt as though they were on fire. It was the map. __The__ map. Unbelievable. The thoughts of the map getting back into the hands of a Hogwarts student was unthinkable.

 

“ _ _Well__?” snapped Snape. “This parchment is plainly full of Dark Magic. This is supposed to be your area of expertise, Lupin. Where do you imagine Potter got such a thing?”

 

Remus hated the way Snape said “Potter,” full of hatred and anger left over from twenty years ago when they were at Hogwarts.

 

“Full of Dark Magic? Do you really think so, Severus? It looks to me as though it is merely a piece of parchment that insults anybody who reads it. Childish, but surely not dangerous? I imagine Harry got it from a joke shop—”

 

“Indeed?” interrupted Snape, his upper lip curling in disgust. “You think a joke shop could supply him with such a thing? You don’t think it more likely that he got it __directly from the manufacturers?__ ”

 

Remus kept his composure. One of his gifts when he was a boy was lying. He had been able to look Professors in the eye and lie flat out. He didn’t like doing it, and wouldn’t do it unless it was absolutely necessary. This was one of those times. The way Snape said __manufacturers_ _ stirred something in Remus’ memory, of a day when Snape had stumbled upon them wandering the castle. Peter had dropped the map in surprise, giving Snape a good glimpse of what it was. After that, they had decided to make the map password-protected.

 

Remus was able to get the map and Harry (and Ron, who had shown up after a long run to Snape’s office) away from the dungeons, but he kept the map. If Sirius knew the map was in circulation and __found__ it, it could lead him straight to Harry. Remus might not have been able to protect his friends twelve years ago, but he was certainly going to do his best to protect Harry now.

 

It was fate that he had the map open on his desk so many nights later. He hadn’t given it much thought until then. But he felt a pull towards it and he said the words, “I solemnly swear I am up to no good.” That’s when he saw it the names. Sirius Black. Ron Weasley. And—

 

__No__. It was impossible. But clear as water, the name was there on the map: __Peter Pettigrew_. _

 

“Oh, shit,” mumbled Remus, grabbing his wand and racing out of his office. “ _ _Shit__.”

 

His mind was a blur as he ran towards the Shrieking Shack, barely able to keep up the pace as it was the night of a full moon. Then, there he was. __Him_. _ Sirius. Sitting by Harry’s feet. He looked both exactly and nothing like the Sirius he remembered. The hair was the same color, his features were the same, thin and long, but his eyes were haunted, almost vacant. Oh, the __life__ that used to be in those eyes. Remus was in sudden mourning for the beauty of Sirius’ eyes.

 

They embraced, but it was a short hug, like one might give to his brother. This was not the time for romantic memories or explanations. This was the time to find Peter and give him answers. Remus wanted to kill him, murder him for robbing Sirius and him of twelve years together. 

 

It never came to be. One turn of the full moon and a forgotten potion later, Remus had turned wolf and had lost Sirius once again; this time in a hippogriff’s flight.

 

XXXXXXX

 

**To Be Continued . . .**

 

XXXXXXX

 

* “camp it up” – to wear drag.


	6. Chapter 6

XXXXXXX

 

****PART VI** **

 

XXXXXXX

 

He ended up spending his first night away from Hogwarts at Dahlia’s. Sometime around daybreak, Remus woke up. He was alone in the room. He got up and slipped into the shower. Changing clothes quickly afterwards, he went through the house to the kitchen, where he knew Dahlia sat when the children were at school. She did the finances, read books. More often than not, she used something called a PowerBook to tap out stories that she sold to magazines around London. Remus was envious of her talent, but she had always said she was jealous of his knack for teaching. “When you touch someone’s life, you can __see__ it. I have to hear about it a letter and that’s not nearly as satisfying,” she had told him once.

 

“I wanted to say thank you,” said Remus.

 

Dahlia looked up from her PowerBook. “For what?”

 

“Letting me stay here last night. I suppose I was a bit out of my head.”

 

“That’s all right. I don’t mind. The guestroom is yours for as long as you like it.”

 

Remus shook his head. “No, I’m going to find a flat today and if I can’t find one, then I’ll go to a hotel for a few days. I really shouldn’t be here when your children are home.”

 

“I trust you around them.”

 

“I don’t mean that.” Remus shifted his weight to the other foot. “It’s simply that they don’t know me and we’re not together.”

 

Dahlia nodded. “I understand, but you don’t have to go until you’re ready. What you told me last night, about Sirius being innocent and everything is big stuff to deal with you, you know? I still cannot believe they made you quit your job because you were gay.”

 

“Er,” said Remus, remembering that the night before he had told Dahlia that one of his colleagues had outed his secret (he just failed to mention __which__ secret it was). “It’s for the best.”

 

Dahlia nodded, understanding. Remus gave her a kiss on the cheek before heading back to the guestroom to gather his things. It took him a couple days to find a suitable flat. Luckily for him, he had magic to mend leaky ceilings and to ward any room against cockroaches and rats. However, the flat he finally chose wasn’t infested with anything too disgusting, but there were cracks in the walls and the windows were stained brown and foggy. Remus took it and the same day he moved in, did several cleaning and repairing charms. The flat became livable and was relatively cheap. 

 

Visitors were far and in between over the next few months. Word had gotten around the magical community that Remus was a werewolf. He wasn’t recognizable by face, but when he applied for tutoring jobs for some of the wealthiest wizarding families, they found out who – or what – he was very quickly and never owled him back. There was nothing he could do except get a job in a Muggle restaurant or retail store. The prospect didn’t make Remus very happy.

 

He ended up using some of his money that he had saved from his salary at Hogwarts to pay for part of his flat each month. There was enough money coming in from part time tutoring jobs that he could feed himself and pay the water bills. He didn’t use electricity because he had a wand and could cast a powerful enough __Lumos__ charm to keep his flat lit for hours at a time. Working a job that had a steadier paycheck might have been better financially, but Remus couldn’t imagine ever having to go back to working a Muggle job like he had before at the café. He knew what it was like to teach and he could never do anything else.

 

Remus wrote Harry exactly twice that year. He asked him about the Tri-Wizard Championship and that he hoped all was well at Hogwarts, that he heard Alastor Moody would be a good professor, despite the bit about him being mad. The second time Harry wrote back, he mentioned Sirius. Nothing specific, but simply that Sirius had written him. Remus crumpled up the letter and tossed it into the fireplace, cursing Sirius under his breath. He could contact Harry but not him? They had both left Hogwarts in June and it was now November and not a single word or letter. It was driving Remus mad.

 

The only other owl he received was from Dumbledore. The note was fairly short and direct.

 

 

__Remus,_ _

 

__I daresay I have no excuse for keeping this as long as I have. You allowed me access to your old home to try and collect any evidence regarding Sirius Black. It was several months after the arrest and your house was mostly empty, but I stumbled upon this and I thought I should take it for safe keeping. One day you would want it back. I think I have kept it for far too long and I hope you forgive my misjudgment. Though, perhaps this is the right time to give it back to you._ _

__

__I have been hearing rumors from faraway about the past. Wormtail has gone and I believe him to be searching for his old Master. If he hasn’t found him yet, he will soon. Keep your eyes and ears open. Alert me to anything you hear. I believe the time has come for the old crowd to become reacquainted. When that time is definite, I will send word if you are still willing to fight with us._ _

__

__Humbly yours,_ _

__Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore_ _

 

 

From the envelope fell a familiar-looking ring. The metal felt heavy in Remus’ hand and he shoved it in the pocket of his pajama bottoms, not sure he was willing to relive the memory of the day he and Sirius both put on those matching rings. They weren’t together anymore and the memories were painful. Remus was someone else’s lover now.

 

Dahlia’s children stayed at their father’s flat two weekends a month. He picked them up from school every Tuesday and Thursday and helped them with their homework, took them out for dinner. Dahlia said the divorce was on hold, that they were on speaking terms, but nothing was finalized. The children sensed that things were less stressful between their parents, but Dahlia and Edmund weren’t sure where they stood.

 

When her children were away, Remus spent time at her house. They drank bottles of red wine and Dahlia let him read drafts of her latest stories. He critiqued them thoughtfully, told her when they were brilliant and when they were crap. When the wine had replaced the blood in their veins, they’d fuck and fall asleep with the sweat still drying on their skin. Neither of them wanted a relationship with the other, but they were comfortable with each other. It was soothing, freeing. It allowed them to take time away from thinking of their failed relationships.

 

XXXXXXX

 

Remus and Sirius’ life together was defined by a series of firsts. There first kiss happened in the boys’ dormitories at Hogwarts. It took months of buildup to get to that point. Sirius was reluctant and in denial. Remus was scared and confused. But it happened at the end of seventh year. It came with a lot of shaky nerves and foggy thoughts, embarrassing hard-ons that refused to go away.

 

The first time they had sex was a year after their first kiss. Remus brought the subject up and he was the first to surrender. Sirius tried to be careful, but it wasn’t the most pleasant of experiences. Still, the connection was worth something and Remus wanted to try again. And they did, many, many times. It took threatening to breakup for Sirius to finally surrender and that was a first for Remus as well, the first time he took Sirius. It was a brilliant first, for Sirius discovered he liked it; he liked being on the receiving end.

 

The first time either of them said the word “love” was the same day Sirius found out that his brother was a Death Eater. Regulus had been spotted with Lucius Malfoy. It had put Sirius in a daze. He was angry and felt betrayed. His parents were giant sods, he’d always said, but they weren’t fighting on Voldemort’s side, but Regulus was. Remus said it first, though he hadn’t planned on it. It slipped out in an explanation over why he didn’t want to move into Sirius’ house yet . . . __it’s not as though I don’t want to move in because I don’t love you__. . . . It was the first time they said it to anyone, the first time they meant it. They didn’t say it often, but said it enough that neither of them doubted the magic of the words.

 

The first time they lived with anyone outside of school was with one another. January 1980. The box full of Remus’ things was a belated Christmas gift to Sirius. It was the first time they called the house __theirs__ , referring to everything as __ours__ – our bed, our kitchen, our overgrown back garden. It was the first time they had argued with anyone about trivial matters like the proper cleaning spells to use on the pots and pans or whose turn it was to wash the bed linens.

 

The first time they had secrets from one another was in that last year. Remus didn’t tell Sirius about jumping from werewolf pack to werewolf pack, trying to find the one that had wolves working for Voldemort. He hid the cuts and bites he endured during the changes and lived with the guilt of keeping such a monumental secret. 

 

The first time Sirius cried over Remus was because of that secret. He found out about it during the Christmas holiday and several months later, that next May, followed Remus when he went to join yet another werewolf group. Remus got hurt and Sirius had taken him home, tried to heal him. As Remus slept, Sirius cried. He cried for Remus’ injuries and he cried because he thought he was losing his lover, his best mate, the man who had given him one of a pair of matching rings. He was losing him to Dark magic, to werewolves who understood his pain. Sirius could never compete with that level of understanding, of __knowing__ the moon.

 

The first time Remus cried over Sirius was the morning after Halloween. He read through a stack of owls on his kitchen table, confused that there were so many, wondering why Sirius hadn’t come back the night before. Remus’ tears didn’t come until he read the headline in the __Daily Prophet__. Somehow, those words in their permanent black ink turned the letters written by Dumbledore and his family into truth.

 

Their relationship was also defined by lasts. Somehow, those lasts were more memorable than the firsts. The last kiss came right before the last words. __I’m going to check on James and Lily_. _ Then, Sirius’ lips pressed against Remus’ and while his eyes whispered love, his mouth said nothing. 

 

The last time they made love was in October. It was a perfect bonding, where first Sirius was on top, his chest curved around Remus’ back, then they switched positions and came at the same time, Remus inside Sirius, Sirius’ hand stroking his own cock.

 

The last time Sirius said “I love you” was in September. There was no reason, no occasion. They were laying on their backs behind their house, looking at the stars, trying to remember the things they had learned in Astronomy class. They could see Mars, see a couple of constellations, but mostly the knowledge was lost in the folds of their minds. 

 

The last time Remus said “I love you” was after Harry’s first birthday. They went to James and Lily’s house, brought presents, and ate chocolate cake. Harry stood on his own, but couldn’t take more than a step or two before falling on his diaper-cushioned bum. He babbled and didn’t say anything that made sense to anyone. Harry fell asleep on Sirius’ lap and he held the boy, sitting on the settee. Lily went to clean up from dinner, refusing Remus’ help, and James went with her. Sitting next to Sirius, Remus kissed the corner of his mouth, whispering words to him. __I know you want that . . . a baby . . . but I can’t give it to you. . . . You’re going to have to settle for just me for the rest of your life. . . . I wish I could give it to you, but I can’t. . . . I hope loving you will be enough for you . . . because I do love you, more than anything. . . ._ _

 

Now, their lives hung together by a new last and a new first. It had been the first time they’d seen one another in twelve years. But it had also been the last.

 

XXXXXXX

 

A knocking from the other room woke Remus up in the middle of the night. When he looked at his clock, it was just about midnight, meaning it was officially Christmas. Happy Christmas indeed, thought Remus as he got up and sleepily shuffled to the front door. He pulled it open, his wand in his hand at the ready.

 

“Christ, Padfoot. Get __in__ here.”

 

Padfoot walked through the door. When Remus closed it, Sirius became human again. His robes were dirty and tattered, his hair longer than ever. He was too thin and too pale. There was a tension between them, so thick Remus could practically touch it.

 

“Happy Christmas,” said Sirius dully. “This is where you live, then, is it?”

 

“How’d you know?”

 

“I asked Dumbledore. He didn’t seem to think you would mind my coming here.”

 

Remus nodded. “Would you like a drink or something to eat?”

 

Sirius laughed; it sounded hoarse and dry. “Drink is fine. I’m cold.”

 

The table Remus used to eat off of was just behind the sofa. He got a bottle of scotch that was half-full from the kitchen counter and set it on the table. Sirius had already seated himself, his fingers massaging his temples. Remus got two glasses and sat across from Sirius.

 

“I have some clean clothes, if you want them,” said Remus, pouring the scotch in Sirius’ glass. He was careful to look at the brown liquid instead of at Sirius. He filled his own glass and put it to his lips, drinking half of it in one gulp.

 

“Careful. You can’t hold your liquor very well.”

 

“That was then,” mumbled Remus. He dared look at Sirius. “Do you hate me?”

 

Sirius laughed. “Why would I hate you?”

 

“Because I spent twelve years thinking you were guilty. . . . Twelve years forcing myself to forget about you . . . to fall out of love with you.”

 

“Did you succeed?”

 

Remus swallowed the rest of his scotch. “Yes.”

 

Sirius laughed again and covered his eyes with his hands. “Oh good Christ,” he said.

 

“Do you hate me?”

 

Sirius shook his head and lowered his hands. “No. You forgave me countless times for being an idiot. I forgive you.”

 

“I didn’t want you to be guilty. How did you stay sane in that place?”

 

“You think I’m sane? I’m barely hanging on here, Remus. I’ve been living in caves, starving myself. I’ve changed into Padfoot a couple times and begged food off some people in Hogsmeade, but I think a couple of them are getting suspicious – y’know, because I’m a very well-trained dog.”

 

“You don’t have to stay near Hogwarts.”

 

“I’ve been traveling. It’s been rather difficult with Buckbeak, but I’ve managed. He’s at the old house, now. __Our__ old house, that is. Completely abandoned and run down and a piece of shit.”

 

“I’ve no doubt.”

 

“I think about you, though. A lot.”

 

Remus was quiet; he had no idea what to say.

 

“At Azkaban, I tried to escape a couple times. There wasn’t any magic there to keep me in the cell. I came so close, but then I just . . . gave up – gave up trying to leave, I mean. I still had this hope. I don’t know where the bloody fuck it came from, but it was there. For a while I . . .” Sirius trailed off and took a long sip of his scotch. “I thought of you – us. I suppose the dementors are supposed to suck all those thoughts out of us – the happy ones, I mean. But they didn’t. I don’t know why, but I’d relive those moments on the street corner, when I realized that Peter – __fucking__ Peter Pettigrew – had outsmarted me. But, you, Remus, my god, I thought of you and it kept me sane.”

 

Sirius laughed again, a bit hysterically, and Remus had to look away. Sirius’ skin stretched over his face, gaunt like a ghost. His eyes held more life in them now, but they weren’t the same eyes Remus remembered. They had the hollow look of mental torture.

 

“I have to confess something, though.”

 

Remus looked back at him. “Go on.”

 

“The last couple years I didn’t really think of anything. I just transformed until someone came to inspect the prisons, then I’d go back to human form. Seeing Peter in that newspaper gave me all the strength I never had before. I wanted to __slaughter__ him – torture him. I figured after all those years I’d already lost you, but I was going to be damned if I was going to lose Harry, too. Even if he didn’t remember me.”

 

“Do you still love me?” Remus wasn’t sure where the question came from; it had just escaped from his mouth.

 

Sirius shrugged. “Remus, I don’t know. I don’t know how I feel about anything anymore. I’m lost. I’m nothing. What do I have? __Look at me__. I’m a walking skeleton – a shell, a ghost. I don’t feel like I’m anything. I can’t have anyone see me. Harry’s stuck at school trying not to die and I’m – I’m useless.” Sirius slammed his fist on the table. “Really, it’s my own fault.”

 

“Why would you say that? Don’t be an idiot, Sirius.”

 

“Say it again.”

 

“What?”

 

“My name.”

 

“Sirius.”

 

“Again.”

 

“ _ _Sirius__.”

 

“You’ve no idea how amazing it sounds to hear you say that.”

 

“I loved you so much,” whispered Remus. “ _ _So much__.”

 

“I don’t have anything to offer you anymore. All I have is what you see. The money – I can’t really touch it, but even if I could, you wouldn’t want it. I’m different now.”

 

“I know. It’s all right. Even if” – Remus cleared his throat – “we can’t go back, we can go forward. You’re still my best friend. Now, tell me why you think it’s your fault.”

 

“You were with the werewolves, remember? Trying to find information on Voldemort’s whereabouts.”

 

“Yes, I remember. Lovely time in my life.”

 

Sirius sniggered. “Right, well, the way you talked sometimes, about how you were an animal – like you were first a werewolf and __then__ a man. Even though I always thought of you as a man and not a wolf. But you talked about how the lycanthropes you met understood you. I thought you liked them better than me – I should’ve known better – you’d never go rouge. Still, I thought you were the spy, Remus. My god, I was an idiot!”

 

“I don’t understand one thing,” said Remus. “Why would you change being Secret-Keeper and have Peter do it? I mean, I know that the reasoning was that no one would expect Peter, useless, blithering idiot that he was. But if they __had__ tried to find him and he __wasn’t__ the spy, he would’ve given up the information at the first __Crucio__. You would’ve let the Death Eaters kill you before you told them where James and Lily were.”

 

Sirius shook his head in disbelief. “You don’t understand, do you? I thought __you__ were the spy, Remus! I would’ve have told any of the Death Eaters, but I would’ve told you. I would’ve told you anything. You were my weakness.”

 

Remus poured himself more scotch. “I’ve been sleeping with Dahlia for a year.”

 

“Who the fuck is Dah – oh. __Oh__. You’re not serious? Is she your girlfriend?”

 

“No.”

 

“Why are you telling me?”

 

“I don’t know,” said Remus, shaking his head. “I feel as though I need to confess it.”

 

“Don’t feel guilty. We’re not together.”

 

Remus reached into his pajama pocket and pulled out the ring. He’d kept it there since he got it in the letter. “Dumbledore gave this to me. I left it at your house. I went back once to pack up my things, but I left this behind. I thought of burning the whole house, but that seemed rather dramatic and you were always the one for melodrama. It didn’t feel like my right to burn your house.”

 

“Our house.”

 

“After you were arrested I tried to think of it as yours. I wanted to sever all ties with you. I’m sorry.”

 

“Stop apologizing!” snapped Sirius. “I thought __you__ were on Voldemort’s side! It’s why I couldn’t let myself be Secret-Keeper.”

 

“I tried to love other people,” confessed Remus. “But I couldn’t. I thought everyone was going to betray me. I couldn’t trust anyone. I ruined every chance I had at another relationship.”

 

“You’ve never had one since I left?” asked Sirius, the dismay evident in his voice.

 

“No, I had . . . someone. Once. A little over a year after you were arrested. It lasted a couple years, but it wasn’t nearly as perfect as we had been. Once that was finished, I just stopped trying to find anyone. I gave in to certain urges sometimes, when I couldn’t deal with another night by myself, but for the most part I’ve been alone. Last Christmas I was overwhelmed with the papers about your escape and seeing Harry every day – I could hardly stand it so I went to Dahlia’s. We’ve been friends for a decade or so by now. We’re not together, but she lets me just be myself.”

 

“I let you be yourself.”

 

“You’ve been on the run since June,” retorted Remus, “and this is the first time I’ve seen you. You haven’t written either.”

 

“I didn’t know what to say.”

 

“Harry said you wrote him.”

 

“He’s my godson.”

 

“And what am I?”

 

“I don’t know!” Sirius shot back the rest of the scotch in his glass. “That’s why I didn’t write! I didn’t know who you were or who you had. I didn’t want to write and ruin your life. I mean – what if you had a wife or a girlfriend and she didn’t know you lived with another man? Had sex with a man?”

 

“I would never lie about my sexual preferences.”

 

“So now you’ve slept with women, which do you prefer?”

 

“That’s none of your business.”

 

“Who was that relationship with? A man?”

 

Remus nodded. “Yes. He was a professor of mine—”

 

Sirius interrupted with a howl of laughter. “Your __professor__? That’s right dirty, Remus.”

 

“I don’t think you’re one to judge.”

 

“Probably not. God, a professor, eh? Brilliant.” Sirius looked at Remus in a way that made him squirm in his seat. 

 

“I missed you,” said Remus. “Even when I had convinced myself I didn’t miss you anymore, I missed you. This is really strange for me, to have you back.”

 

“It’s strange to be back.”

 

“I’ve some clean clothes. There’s towels in the bathroom if you want to shower. I’ve an extra toothbrush, too.”

 

“Are you suggesting I smell?”

 

“I’m suggesting that you knocked on my door after midnight and you’re probably tired.”

 

“Oh. Well, yes, a shower would be brilliant. I can sleep on the settee—”

 

“You can sleep with me,” said Remus softly. “Unless you want to sleep in here. The couch sags. It’s old. My bed is bigger.”

 

Sirius nodded. “All right.”

 

“I’ll set some clothes out for you. They might be too short, but they’ll also be too big. You’re too skinny. I’ll buy some more food tomorrow so you can eat something other than scraps only worthy for dogs.”

 

“I appreciate it.”

 

Remus nodded and stood up. As he walked towards the door to the bedroom, Sirius reached out and grabbed hold of his arm.

 

“Don’t blame yourself. I forgive you. I’d forgive you a thousand times if it only meant we could go back to the way things used to be – but I’m different and you’re a new man, now. I don’t know you anymore.”

 

“You can get to know me,” said Remus. “Ask me anything.”

 

Sirius searched Remus’ eyes. Remus swallowed, unsure what Sirius was going to ask.

 

“When you were with other men . . .”

 

“What?”

 

“Did you let them . . .”

 

“I don’t know what you’re trying to ask, but I always topped, if that’s what you’re hinting at. No other man ever took me. That was an act I thought belonged to you.”

 

“Could you ever love me again?”

 

After a long pause, Remus said, “I don’t know.” He looked at Sirius, trying to find meaning in his gaze. “I wish I could tell you that I could, that we could go back to how we were once, but we need stability. We can’t go six months without seeing one another.”

 

Sirius nodded. “I know.” He got up and went to the bathroom. 

 

Remus heard the water run and went to his room. He laid under the blankets in his bed, turning on his side. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep, but he knew it was impossible. Sirius came in after nearly thirty minutes in the shower. He smelled like soap as he got next to Remus in the bed. The distance between them was only a matter of inches, but it felt like miles.

 

“Remus?”

 

Remus turned over and looked at Sirius. Never before had the man looked so lost, so confused, so dejected. His eyes were still haunted by his years in prison, the fear and sadness still etched in the tight pull of his skin over his cheekbones. 

 

“Can you just . . .”

 

“What is it, Pads?”

 

Sirius closed his eyes at the sound of his old nickname. __Pads__ , he mouthed and smiled. “Can you hold me? Just until I fall asleep? I’ve been sleeping in caves and forests and places. I hardly remember what a bed feels like.”

 

Remus wrapped his arms around Sirius, waiting to feel that pull of love, of attraction, that he had grown so accustomed to when they had been partners so many years before. But the feelings didn’t come and that left Remus confused and hurt. Part of him really wanted to love Sirius again. The best times of his life had been with Sirius, their limbs tangled together, their bodies pressed so tightly together there was no separation – no clearly defined Remus or Sirius, just one body with two souls.

 

When they woke up hours later, they ate breakfast together. Sirius left while Remus took a shower. He left a note apologizing and Remus didn’t see him for another sixth months, this time at the end of June, when he came back to the flat, saying he had orders from Dumbledore.

 

“I’m supposed to lie low at Lupin’s,” Sirius told Remus. “Alert the old crowd. So here I am. Lying low and alerting you. Can I stay?”

 

XXXXXXX

 

****To Be Continued . . .** **

 

XXXXXXX


End file.
